THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


The  Red  Moccasins 


A  STORY 


BY 

MORRISON    HEADY 


LOUISVILLE,  K.Y.: 

COURIER-JOURNAL  JOB  PRINTING  Co. 
1901. 


THE  RED  MOCCASINS, 

A  STORY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Portrait  of  Our  Hero* 
* 

Once,  in  the  spring-green  years  of  the  good  old 

2  times,    when    our    great-grandfathers    were    great- 

'2  grandchildren  themselves,  there  lived  in  the  land  of 

^  green    Kentucky  a  sprout  of    a  man,   some  dozen 

years  old,  who  went  by  the  name  of  Sprigg.     And 


f  "Sprigg,"  for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary,  was  his 
M  real  name  ;  though  it  has  so  little  the  sound  of  a 
i?name,  I  sometimes  wonder  his  father  and  mother 

should  ever  have  thought  of  giving  it  to  him,  when 
.  any  grandmother  of  common  capacity  for  naming 
3  babies  could  have  suggested  a  better  one.  "Jeems," 
>  for  example,  or  "Weeliam."  Be  this  as  it  may, 

"Sprigg"  was  the  name  to  which  our  hero  always 
:  answered,  whenever  addressed  as  cousin,  or  uncle, 
j  or  friend;  and  which,  before  going  the  way  of  all 

;•£ 

good  grandfathers,  he  left  at  the  end  of  his  will, 
where  it  was  thought  real  enough,  not  only  to  make 


452619 


2  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

that  instrument  good  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  but  his 
heirs  highly  respectable  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 
We  have  no  choice,  then,  but  to  call  our  hero 
"Sprigg,"  just  as  everybody  else  did;  though  were 
we  allowed  to  christen  him  more  to  our  liking,  we 
should  certainly  call  him  Jack.  Jack,  in  our  hum 
ble  opinion,  being  the  fittingest  name  in  the  world 
for  giving  pointedge  and  moral  force  to  a  juvenile 
novel.  Especially  would  we  be  allowed  this  liberty 
in  the  present  instance,  where  the  hero,  whose  for 
tune  we  propose  to  follow,  is  described  as  being  of 
a  wild  and  run-away  turn,  and,  hence,  well  fitted  to 
figure  as  a  warning  example  to  all  dissatisfied 
youngsters,  who  not  content  to  stay  at  home  and  do 
their  sliding  on  dry  ground,  go  seeking  for  ice  on 
a  summer  day  at  imminent  risk  of  getting  drowned. 
Now  green  Kentucky,  in  the  days  of  Sprigg,  was 
green  Kentucky,  indeed!  Mrs.  Daniel  Boone  and 
her  daughters  had  not  yet  distinguished  themselves 
by  being  the  first  white  women  who  ever  set  foot 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Kentucky  River,  when  Sprigg 
was  already  a  three-years'  child,  the  joy  and  pride  of 
a  home  in  a  hewn  log  house  in  western  Virginia ;  as 
merry  and  saucy,  and  every  whit  as  well  pleased  with 
himself  as  were  he  the  rising  hope  and  promise  of 
one  of  the  "F.  F.  Vs."  The  eight  or  nine  years  of 
pioneer  activity  which  had  followed  the  historical 
event  just  noticed,  had  made  many  a  wide  gap  in 
the  forest,  yet  had  not  changed  the  general  aspect 


PORTRAIT  OP  OtTR  HERO.  3 

of  the  country  so  much  but  that  the  fields,  as  viewed 
by  the  eagle  who  sailed  with  the  clouds,  must  have 
appeared  no  more  than  as  the  prints  of  man's  feet, 
left  impressed  in  the  otherwise  universal  verdure. 
As  you  may  well  imagine,  so  wild  and  savage  a  re 
gion  must  still  have  been  the  home  of  a  thousand 
wild  and  savage  creatures,  the  like  whereof  we  never 
dream  of  now-a-days,  even  in  our  loneliest  wood 
land  rambles.  There,  too,  was  the  terrible  red  man, 
who,  though  he  built  not  his  wigwam  in  these  wilds, 
made  it  his  frequent  custom  of  resorting  thither, 
sometimes  to  follow  the  chase,  but  oftener  to  war 
with  the  whites,  who  lived  in  great  terror  of  him  the 
whole  year  round. 

The  Christian  name  of  our  hero's  father,  whom 
he  called  "Pap,"  was  Jervis ;  the  'Christian  name  of 
his  mother,  whom  he  called  "Mam,"  was  Elster,  and 
the  surname  was  Whitney.  They  dwelt  in  a  roomy 
cabin,  rudely  built  of  logs  and  boards,  with  a  clay- 
topped  chimney  at  each  end,  and  a  porch  or  shed  on 
each  side.  Under  the  front  porch  Jervis  hung  his 
saddle,  fishing  tackle,  beaver  traps  and  the  like. 
Under  the  back  porch  Elster  kept  her  spinning 
wheel,  crockeryware,  garden  seed,  a  big  c*edar  water 
bucket,  with  its  crooked-handle  gourd,  and  the  like; 
while  in  there,  on  the  earthen  floor  of  the  kitchen, 
stood  her  huge^  unwieldly  loom.  The  cabin  was 
situated  in  the  midst  of  a  small  patch  of  cultivated 
ground,  hemmed  in  on  every  side  by  dense  and  lofty 


4  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

woods,  which  spread  their  waving  shadows  for  miles 
and  miles  away  to  the  north  and  south,  to  the  east 
and  west,  with  only  here  and  there,  at  wide  intervals, 
a  similar  clearing,  or  a  natural  glade  to  speck  the 
boundless  green. 

Now  Sprigg,  you  must  know,  happened  to  be  an 
only  child — a  most  uncommon  circumstance  in  back 
woods  life — your  backwoodsman,  like  your  poor 
woodcutter,  who  makes  such  a  figure  in  old-time 
story-books,  rarely  stopped  short  of  a  baker's  dozen, 
as  a  replenisher  of  the  earth.  Such  being  the  case, 
"Pap"  and  "Mam"  must  need,  of  course,  do  their 
very  utmost  to  make  their  one  chub  as  troublesome 
as  six,  in  order  to  realize,  so  it  would  seem,  how 
much  kind  Providence  had  done  for  them ;  i.  e.,  by 
overdoing  the  thing  to  make  him  happy ;  underdoing 
the  thing  to  make  him  good  enough  to  be  what  they 
most  desired.  To  exemplify :  If  there  chanced  to 
be  a  little  bread  in  the  cupboard  and  a  little  milk  in 
the  springhouse  (these  were  luxuries  then  in  the 
Hunter's  Paradise),  all  of  it,  though  there  might  be 
quite  enough  for  two,  was  sure  to  find  its  way  to 
Sprigg's  tin  cup  and  pewter  spoon ;  and  Sprigg's 
pewter  plate  always  received  the  tit-bits  of  venison 
and  bear's  meat.  The  best  feather  bed  in  the  house 
was  Sprigg's ;  so  was  the  warmest  place  by  the  fire, 
which  he  would  share  with  nobody,  but  Pow-wow, 
the  dog — the  only  creature,  four-footed  or  two- 
footed,  with  whom  he  could  be  in  contact  for  a 


PORTRAIT  OF  OUR  HERO.  6 

whole  day  without  coming  to  hard  rubs.  If  a  deer 
skin  proved,  upon  dressing,  an  uncommonly  nice 
piece  of  buckskin,  fine,  fair  and  soft,  straight,  it  was 
cut  up  and  made  into  moccasins,  breeches  and  hunt 
ing  shirt  for  Sprigg;  and  should  a  fat  raccoon  take 
a  fancy  to  quarter  himself  for  the  night  in  "Pap's" 
trap,  its  fresh,  sleek  skin  would  be  seen  in  less  than 
a  fortnight  thence  on  Sprigg's  head,  in  the  form  of  a 
cap,  with  the  ringed  tail  left  on  behind,  as  orna 
mental  there  as  a  cue,  if  not  more  so.  In  short, 
there  was  nothing  rare,  or  choice  of  its  kind  and 
within  the  bestowal  of  the  Hunter's  Paradise,  which 
did  not,  sooner  or  later,  find  its  way  to  the  hands  or 
feet,  to  the  head  or  back,  or  to  the  selfish  little  belly 
of  master  Sprigg.  But  these  were  trifling  indul 
gences  compared  with  others,  and  would,  in  all  likeli 
hood,  have  left  upon  his  disposition  no  other  lasting 
evil  effect  than  to  render  him  overwatchful  of  his 
own  ease  and  comfort.  What  was  far  worse,  he  was 
allowed  to  say,  with  his  saucy  young  tongue,  what 
ever  he  should  choose  to  say;  and  to  do,  with  his 
meddling  young  hands,  whatever  he  should  choose 
to  do ;  and  to  go,  with  his  wayward  young  feet, 
whithersoever  his  foolish  young  nose  should  choose 
to  lead  him ;  so  that,  by  the  time  he  had  walked  into 
his  twelfth  year,  a  worse  spoilt  boy,  a  vainer  boy,  a 
more  self-conceited  boy,  a  more  self-willed  boy  than 
master  Sprigg  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  land — ran 
sack  the  Paradise  from  Big  Bone  Lick  to  the  Mam 
moth  Cave. 


6  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

And  yet,  to  put  the  question  to  such  parents,  as 
Jervis  and  Elster — though  with  little  expectation  of 
receiving  an  audible  answer — what  other  result  could 
reasonably  have  been  looked  for  in  a  boy,  brought 
up,  like  Sprigg,  to  know  no  will  but  his  own?  This 
was  the  very  thing  to  render  it  next  to  impossible  for 
him  to  know  what  his  own  will  really  was  and  how 
he  should  use  it,  not  knowing  that  of  his  elders  and 
wisers.  This,  in  turn,  was  the  very  thing  to  keep 
him  but  ill  at  ease  with  himself,  and  iller  at  ease,  if 
not  at  downright  loggerheads,  with  everybody  else. 

Now,  had  Jervis  and  Elster  been  as  wise  as  we 
are — you  and  I — they  would,  at  the  very  outset  of 
their  son's  existence,  have  laid  their  own  will  down, 
as  the  rule,  whereby  he  should  order  his  steps  until 
the  beard  on  his  lip  announced  him  qualified  to  fol 
low  his  own  nose,  without  too  great  danger  of  for 
getting  to  allow  that  organ  the  help  of  his  eyes  and 
ears.  But  as  it  was,  they  would  have  done  a  wiser 
and  more  benevolent  part  by  their  boy  had  they 
given  him  a  scalping  knife,  without  sheath,  for  a 
plaything,  or  a  young  bear,  without  a  muzzle  and 
chain,  for  a  pet.  The  knife  might  have  cut  off  a  few 
of  his  fingers,  and  the  bear  might  have  clawed  off 
some  of  his  flesh,  but  the  mischief  done  would  have 
been  slight,  compared  to  that  of  letting  him  have  his 
will  to  play  with. 

So,  it  were  hardly  to  be  laid  to  poor  Sprigg's 
charge  that  he  was  mad  enough  to  figure  as  a  warn- 


PORTRAIT  OF  OUR  HERO.  "7 

ing  example  to  juvenile  evildoers ;  and  it  were  but 
Christian  in  us  to  draw  our  sketch  of  him  with  a  soft 
nib  to  our  pen,  softening  down  the  lines  with  words 
from  the  law  of  love,  which  is,  or  ought  to  be,  written 
on  all  our  hearts.  Had  he  been  as  wisely  trained  as 
he  was  affectionately  cared  for,  there  is  no  telling 
but  that  Sprigg,  instead  of  being  one  of  the  worst 
boys  in  the  world,  he  might  have  turned  out  to  be 
one  of  the  best — nearly  as  good,  it  may  be,  as  a 
brave  little  George,  the  boy,  you  know,  who  cut  his 
father's  cherry  tree  with  his  little  hatchet,  and  when 
the  matter  was  inquired  into,  had  the  courage  to 
own  that  he  was  the  offender,  even  while  fully  ex 
pecting  that  his  tender  young  legs  would  be  made  to 
smart  for  his  adherence  to  principle.  With  so  brave 
a  start  in  life,  our  hero,  when  he  and  the  time  were 
ripe  for  it,  might  have  figured  as  the  hero  of  New 
Orleans,  instead  of  General  Jackson,  and,  qualified 
by  that  achievement,  have  made  the  American  people 
just  as  good  a  President — kicking  the  national  bank 
as  unmercifully  out  of  existence  as  ever  Old  Hick 
ory  did. 

But  leaving  the  might-have-been  out  of  the  ques 
tion  and  taking  things  as  we  find  them,  Sprigg,  by 
the  time  he  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  his  twelfth 
year,  had  more  serious  faults  and  more  foolish  ways 
than  I  feel  willing  to  stop  and  take  a  list  of,  prefer 
ring  to  let  them  come  out  little  by  little  of  their  own 
accord,  which  will  seem  less  like  telling  tales  away 


8  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

from  home.  One  of  his  faults,  however,  the  most 
conspicuous,  though,  by  no  means,  the  most  griev 
ous,  I  must  mention  here  at  the  outset,  it  being  that 
trait  of  his  character  which  imparts  to  our  story  its 
particular  color  and  drift.  I  allude  to  his  vanity, 
which  displayed  itself  in  a  ridiculous  fondness  for 
fine  clothes,  not  to  mention  that  he  was,  in  every 
way,  a  very  handsome  boy;  and  the  fools,  as  usual 
in  such  cases,  had  blabbed  this  into  his  ears,  until 
he  had  grown  to  be  as  strutty  and  vain  as  a  peacock. 
Now,  you  smile  to  think  that  a  boy,  who  lived  in 
a  log  cabin  and  ate  his  bread  and  milk  with  a  pewter 
spoon,  and  dressed  in  buckskin  breeches  and  a  coon- 
skin  cap,  should  fancy  that  he  had  anything  to  be 
vain  of.  But  take  the  second  thought ;  or,  if  you  do 
not  feel  inclined  to  make  the  effort,  I  will,  by  a  simple 
illustration  of  the  point,  save  you  the  trouble.  Is 
not  turkey-cock  just  as  proud  of  his  homely  feathers 
as  peacock  of  his  magnificent  plumes?  And  after 
the  battle  fought,  which  leaves  him  but  the  tattered 
rag  of  a  tail  to  display  to  the  sun,  will  not  turkey- 
cock  spread  that  tattered  rag  of  a  tail  as  self-com- 
placently,  and  strut  as  grandly  and  gobble  as  ob 
streperously  as  ever  ?  Aye,  that  will  he !  And  why  ? 
Because  his  tail — tag-rag  or  not — is  all  his  own  and 
nobody  else's ;  though  almost  anybody  else  may  have 
one  which  the  sun  would  rather  shine  on.  As  with 
turkey-cock,  so  with  an  overwhelming  majority  of 
mankind. 


OUR  HERO  FALLS  IN  LOVE.  9 

CHAPTER  II. 
Out  Hero  Falls  in  Love* 

It  had  only  been  three  or  four  years  since  Jervis 
Whitney  and  his  wife,  Elster,  had  left  their  old  home 
beyond  the  Alleghenies  to  find  a  new  home  here  in 
the  perilous  wilds  of  green  Kentucky,  where  they 
had  built  the  cabin  they  lived  in,  and  cleared  the 
ground  they  tilled.  Among  their  household  goods, 
they  had  brought  along  with  them  quite  a  curious 
medley  of  such  little  notions  as  fancy  ribbons  and 
kerchiefs,  books,  big  wood  engravings,  odd  pieces  of 
ware — china,  silver  and  glass — odd  pieces  of  family 
jewels,  strings  of  bright-colored  beads,  and  the  like. 
Among  the  rest,  were  several  locks  of  hair,  some  of 
which  were  gray,  the  others  black  or  brown,  golden- 
yellow,  or  flaxen,  or  white,  as  the  case  might  be; 
locks  of  hair  in  those  simple  times  being  viewed 
pretty  much  in  the  same  light  that  photographs  now- 
a-days  are,  and,  perhaps,  even  more  highly  prized 
and  tenderly  preserved. 

As  you  have  already  anticipated,  these  little  no 
tions  were  gifts  for  dear  remembrance  sake  from  the 
loved  ones  they  had  left  so  far  behind  them  and  whom 
they  were  to  meet  no  more  for  long,  long  years — 
perhaps,  forever.  Precious  relics,  which  the  lonely 


10  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

young  pair  took  out,  from  time  to  time,  to  look- at 
them ;  when,  with  a  smile  and  a  tear,  they  would  tell 
of  the  sweet  recollections,  which  this  lock  of  hair,  or 
that  piece  of  chinaware,  this  book  or  that  old  picture 
was  conjuring  up  from  out  the  lights  and  shadows 
of  such  days  as  no  land  but  brave  old  Virginia — 
happy  old  Virginia — ever  knew. 

Now,  in  this  same  pack,  along  with  these  odds 
and  ends  of  dear  remembrance,  there  chanced  to  be 
an  old  show  bill,  which  Jervis  and  Elster  had  brought 
along  with  the  rest  just  to  keep  them  in  mind  of  the 
happy,  happy  day,  when  they  two  had  united  their 
hearts  and  fortunes  for  life.  On  that  self-same  day 
they  had  gone  to  the  show,  which  was  blazed  by  this 
self-same  show  bill ;  and  the  occasion  made  their 
bridal  tour  as  complete  a  thing  of  its  kind  as  nothing 
short  of  a  centennial  could  make  in  these  latter  days 
do  for  the  like  excursions.  On  the  show  bill,  in  a 
variety  of  fancy  colors,  such  as  we  sometimes  see  in 
pictures  of  Daniel  in  the  den  of  lions,  and  the  like, 
were  the  representations  of  the  animals  which  were 
to  be  seen  at  the  show ;  and  more,  you  may  be  sure, 
than  were  seen  there  on  that  day,  or  ever  had  been 
seen  in  the  land,  or  ever  shall  be  seen  in  the  world, 
unless,  indeed,  what  African  travelers  tell  us,  backed 
by  Barnum  and  the  man  in  the  moon,  should  some 
day  turn  out  to  be  true.  To  lend  their  rustic  home  a 
more  genteel  and  civilized  appearance,  as  well  as  to 
keep  them  in  mind  of  the  ever-to-be-remembered 


OUR  HERO  FALLS  IN  LOVE.  11 

day  just  mentioned,  Elster  had  tacked  the  show  bill 
to  the  rough  log  wall  of  their  best  room,  and  against 
this,  for  a  background,  had  hung  their  only  looking- 
glass,  with  a  comb  case  on  one  side  and  Jervis'  jolly- 
faced  silver  watch  on  the  other;  while  crowning  the 
glass  was  a  bunch  of  magnificent  eagle  feathers — a 
trophy  of  her  husband's  skill  as  a  marksman. 

Now,  these  pictures,  flashy,  extravagant  and  out 
of  all  nature,  though  they  might  seerh  to  our  age  of 
chromo,  crayon,  perfection,  had  for  this  many  a  day 
been  the  delight  of  Sprigg's  young  eyes.  But  the 
one  that  charmed  his  fancy  more  than  all  the  others 
was  that  of  an  Indian  boy,  apparently  about  his  own 
age,  riding  a  Shetland  pony  at  a  dashing  gallop,  with 
the  right  foot  tip-toe  on  his  charger's  back,  the  left 
amusing  itself  in  the  air,  the  left  hand  holding  the 
bridle-reins,  the  right  hand  flourishing  aloft  a  savage 
little  tomahawk.  In  the  browband  of  the  pony's 
bridle  was  stuck  the  staff  of  a  small  red  flag,  while 
the  gallant  young  horseman  himself  was  rigged  out 
in  leggins  and  hunting  shirt  of  the  fairest  of  buck 
skin,  trimmed  with  the  blackest  of  bearskin,  a  hat  of 
gay  feathers  upon  his  head,  and  upon  his  feet  a  mag 
nificent  pair  of  red  moccasins. 

There  was  scarcely  a  day  in  the  week,  not  even 
excepting  Sunday,  that  Sprigg  did  .not  go  and,  plant 
ing  himself  before  the  old  show  bill,  take  a  long  look 
at  the  Indian  boy  and  his  Shetland  pony.  And  more 
than  a  few  times,  after  thus  feasting  his  eyes,  had 


12  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

he  gone  to  his  mother,  where  she  would  be  plying 
her  loom  in  the  kitchen,  when  something  like  the 
following  confab  would  take  place  between  them : 

"Mam,  I  do  wish  that  I  had  a  pair  of  red  mocca 
sins,  such  as  the  Indian  boy  in  yonder  has  on !" 

"And  a  red  cap,  too,  such  as  Jack  Monkey  in 
yonder  has  on!"  would  his  mother  rejoin,  as  she 
paused  in  her  work.  Then  resting  her  arm  on  the 
breast  beam  of  the  loom  and  regarding  her  rising 
hope  with  a  half-fond,  half-ridiculous  smile,  she 
would  add: 

"Still  harping  on  the  same  old  tune !  Still  hank 
ering  after  the  red  tomfooleries !  Well,  suppose  if 
a  civilized  white  boy  should  happen  to  have  a  pair 
of  red  moccasins,  what  could  he  do  with  them  ?" 

"I  could  wear  them  to  quiltings  and  to  log 
rollings  and  to  house-raisings  and  to  shooting 
matches  and  to  weddings — yes,  and  to  church,  too." 

"Why,  Sprigg,  a  church  is  the  last  place  in  the 
world  where  so  outlandish  a  thing  as  a  pair  of  red 
moccasins  ought  to  be  seen.  How  the  old  people 
would  frown  and  shake  their  heads  at  you!  How 
the  young  people  would  titter  and  point  at  you ;  and 
some  would  say :  'Just  l°°k  yonder  at  Sprigg,  strut 
ting  about  in  a  pair  of  red  moccasins,  as  if  he  were 
thinking  himself  so  much  finer  than  our  bare-footed 
boys — the  young  monkey !'  And,  Sprigg,  would  you 
like  to  be  called  a  monkey?  I  rather  think  not. 
You'd  rather  take  a  whipping  any  day  than  to  be 
laughed  at  and  ridiculed." 


OUR  HERO  FALLS  IN  LOVE.  13 

"No,  but  they  wouldn't  laugh;  nobody  would 
think  of  laughing.  The  boys  would  envy  me  and  the 
girls  would  admire  me,  and  everybody  would  say: 
'Just  look  yonder  at  Sprigg !  But  isn't  he  fine?  Oh, 
how  beautiful !  So  beautiful  in  his  red  moccasins.'  " 

And  the  vain  boy  would  fall  to  dancing  and  skip 
ping  about  the  earthen  floor  of  the  kitchen,  as  if  the 
very  thought  of  the  moccasins  had  made  him  tipsy. 

"Dandy  Jim,  of  Caroline,  might  say  all  that  of 
dandy  monkey  at  a  show,"  would  Elster  answer, 
"and  dandy  Jim  might  say  as  much  of  dandy  Sprigg 
at  church,  but  nobody  else  would — count  on  that! 
So,  just  leave  the  red  tomfooleries  to  Indians  and 
monkeys,  my  boy;  and  just  make  up  your  mind  to 
be  satisfied,  and  more  than  satisfied,  too,  with  the 
nice  boots,  which  pap  has  promised  to  bring  you 
when  he  goes  to  our  old  home  next  spring." 

But,  let  his  mother  picture  him  in  whatever  color 
she  might,  the  vain  boy  would  go  on  hankering  after 
the  red  moccasins  all  the  same ;  till,  by  and  by,  they 
took  such  hold  on  his  fancy  that  his  thoughts  by 
day  and  his  dreams  by  night  assumed  the  same  com 
plexion,  and  became,  so  to  speak,  as  red  as  the  red 
dest  of  leather.  Indeed,  there  were  moments  when 
it  did  seem  to  Sprigg  as  if  he  would  be  willing  to  part 
with  one  of  his  legs  for  a  pair  of  red  moccasins'. 

Now,  you  are  thinking  such  a  whim,  out  of  all 
nature  and  reason,  absurd,  and  I  fully  agree  with 
you;  yet,  nave  I  known  a  few  grown-up  children  in 


14  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

my  day,  of  high  reputation  for  judgment,  who  in 
some  of  the  fancies  they  have  cherished,  and  in  some 
of  the  bargains  they  have  made,  have  exhibited  not 
a  whit  more  judgment  than  poor  Sprigg.  Distin 
guished  personages,  who,  from  the  solid  and  digni 
fied  outward  appearance  they  showed  to  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  would  give  you  the  impression  that 
they  had  never  entertained  a  foolish  fancy,  or  mis 
taken  the  shadow  for  the  substance  in  all  their  lives. 
I  have  known  women  who  have  given  their  hands — 
sacrificed  the  best  of  their  hearts — to  put  their  heads 
in  other  women's  bonnets;  and  I  have  known  men 
who  have  sold  their  very  souls  to  set  their  feet  in 
other  men's  shoes. 

So,  time  went  lagging  by ;  lagging,  perhaps,  be 
cause  his  feet  were  not  shod  with  a  pair  of  red  moc 
casins;  or,  it  may  be,  because  he  was  not  mounted 
on  a  Shetland  pony.  At  last,  one  night  in  April,  as 
they  were  all  sitting  around  a  roaring  log  fire, 
Sprigg's  dreams  took  a  definite  shape,  as  well  as 
color.  Jervis  had  sat  for  some  time  smoking  his 
pipe  in  thoughtful  silence,  when  he  turned  to  his 
wife  and  thus  addressed  her: 

"So,  Elster,  I  am  to  set  out  on  my  long  tramp  for 
the  Old  Dominion;  and  with  what  a  light  heart  I 
could  do  it,  too,  could  I  but  take  you  and  our  boy 
along  with  me.  But,  as  it  is,  I  am  beginning  to  feel 
already  quite  out  of  sorts  at  the  very  thought  of 
leaving  you  behind  me  for  so  long,  and  I  would  give 


OUR  HERO  FALLS  IN  LOVE.  15 

up  the  trip  altogether  were  it  not  for  the  business, 
which  no  one  else  can  attend  to  but  myself." 

Sprigg  was  sitting  directly  in  front  of  the  fire, 
gazing  with  a  fixed  and  dreamy  look  into  the  glow 
ing  embers  before  him;  and,  observing  this,  his 
father  said  to  him : 

"Come,  Sprigg,  let  us  have  some  of  the  pictures 
you  are  drawing  there  in  the  fire-coals!  You  can 
beat  any  boy  of  your  size  at  that  sort  of  headwork 
that  ever  I  saw.  What  do  you  see  in  the  coals?" 

"I  see,"  answered  the  boy,  in  a  musing  way,  "I 
see  an  Indian  boy  standing  tip-toe  on  the  back  of  a 
Shetland  pony,  riding  at  full  gallop,  his  head  all 
waving  with  feathers,  his  feet  so  fine  with  red  moc 
casins,  and  he  is  showing  off  before  a  great  crowd  of 
people,  who  seem  to  be  waving  their  hats,  as  if  they 
were  shouting:  'Hurrah!  Hurrah!  Splendid! 
Splendid !'  Oh,  how  I  wish  that  I  were  an  Indian 
boy,  and  had  a  Shetland  pony;  then  might  I  travel 
from  town  to  town  and  show  off  before  the  people, 
and  be  somebody,  and  so  happy!" 

Then,  with  a  start,  as  if  a  bright  thought  had 
flashed  out  to  him  from  the  fire-coal,  he  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  pap !  won't  you  get  me  a  pair  of  red  mocca 
sins  while  you  are  gone,  please?  And  coming  over 
and  laying  his  hand  on  his  father's  shoulder,  he  re 
peated  his  request — all  in  the  softest,  winningest  way 
you  can  well  imagine.  For,  whenever  he  had  an 
object  near  at  heart,  and  knew  he  could  gain  it  by  a 


16  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

little  palaver,  Sprigg  could  appear  as  soft  and  win 
ning  as  any  young  tom-cat  you  ever  saw. 

"But,  Sprigg,  why  not  the  boots,  which  I  have 
been  promising  you  for  a  year  or  more?  Black 
boots,  with  fair  tops  and  brass  heel-taps,  that  will 
make  a  gentleman  of  you  as  soon  as  you  put  them 
on." 

"But  I  would  not  care  for  the  boots  half  so  much ; 
and,  if  you  will  just  only  bring  me  the  moccasins  I 
won't  say  one  word  about  anything  else  you  have 
been  promising  me.  I  won't  even  ask  you  to  get  me 
the  fur  hat,  nor  the  red  waistcoat,  nor  the  little  hunt 
ing  knife,  nor  the  little  tomahawk — nothing  but  the 
red  moccasins." 

The  artful  young  rogue  made  this  spreading  dis 
play  of  self-denial  merely  to  jog  his  father's  memory, 
knowing  perfectly  well  that  he  was  running  no  risk 
of  being  taken  at  his  word,  and  that  by  his  offer  of 
release  he  should  be  all  the  more  certain  of  receiving 
what  had  been  promised  him. 

"Then,  red  moccasins  shall  you  have,  my  boy!" 
cried  the  fond  father,  giving  his  son  a  chum-like 
slap  on  the  back.  "Let  me  but  find  them  in  the  Old 
Dominion,  and  the  red  moccasins  shall  you  have — 
yes,  and  the  boots  to  boot." 

Of  course,  it  never  once  entered  Jervis  Whitney's 
mind  that  so  fantastic  a  thing  as  a  pair  of  red  moc 
casins  was  to  be  found  in  the  Old  Dominion,  or  any 
where  else  outside  of  a  monkey  show,  though  he 


OTJR  HERO  FALLS  Itf  LOVE.  17 

might  search  the  world,  with  a  will-o'-the-wisp, 
from  Big  Bone  Lick  to  the  Land  of  Nod.  So,  in 
saying,  "let  me  but  find  them,  and  you  shall  have 
them,"  he  thought  he  was  hazarding  his  word  no 
more  than  were  he  to  say :  "Let  the  man  in  the 
moon  but  give  me  the  moon,  and  the  moon,  my  boy, 
is  yours." 

"Yes,  pap,  get  him  the  red  moccasins — do,  by  all 
means !"  here  put  in  Elster,  who  had  a  vein  of  mock 
ing  pleasantry,  in  which  she  was  wont  to  indulge, 
especially  whenever,  as  now,  her  fingers  were  busy 
with  yarn  and  knitting  needles.  "With  a  little  prac 
tice  he  could  play  Indian  every  whit  as  well  as  Jack 
Monkey,  if  not  better;  and  we  ought  to  do  all  we 
can  to  bring  out  his  talent,  so  that  he  may  make  a 
monkey  of  himself,  and,  as  he  says,  'be  somebody, 
and  so  happy.'  So  you  furnish  the  moccasins  and 
the  tomahawk  and  I  will  get  up  the  rest  of  the  rig 
ging.  I  will  trim  his  new  buckskin  breeches  and 
hunting  shirt  with  bearskin,  and  take  those  plumes 
from  over  the  looking-glass  up  there,  and  make  him 
as  fine  a  feathered  hat  as  ever  grandmother  Pocahon- 
tas  fixed  up  for  brothers.  Nor  shall  the  war  paint  be 
forgotten.  I  will  streak  and  stripe  and  spot  his  face 
till  he  looks  as  savage  and  fierce  as  Big  Foot,  the 
Wyandot  giant — scary  enough  to  scare  a  scare 
crow.  Then,  having  so  bedaubed  and  bedizened  Tiim 
that  his  own  looking-glass  couldn't  tell  him  whose 
son  he  was,  we  will  take  him  out,  and,  mounting  him 


18  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

upon  old  Blue  Blaze,  witness  him  make  his  maiden 
effort.  To  be  sure,  old  Blue  Blaze  is  not  exactly 
what  you  might  call  a  Shetland  pony,  but  by  that 
time  she  will  have  a  colt  a  month  or  two  old,  so  that 
while  our  monkey  is  up  there,  playing  Big  Injun  on 
the  old  mare's  back,  coltie  can  trot  along  behind 
and  play  Little  Shetland.  Meanwhile,  we  must  be 
making  all  the  noise  we  can,  clapping  our  hands  and 
shouting :  'Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  splendid !  splendid  !' 
Should  our  demonstrations  fall  short  of  the  desired 
effect,  and  we  should  happen  to  hear  some  of  our  red 
neighbors  shouting  and  yelling  over  there  in  the 
woods,  we  will  call  them  in  to  help  us  out.  They 
will  make  noise  enough  to  slack  his  thirst  for  ap 
plause,  I  warrant  you.  They  will  be  so  delighted 
with  his  performance  that  nothing  will  satisfy  them 
short  of  taking  him  home  with  them — Blue  Blaze, 
coltie  and  all — to  old  Chillicothe,  where  he  shall  be 
kept  all  his  days  to  play  Big  Paleface  for  the  reds, 
just  as  Jack  Monkey  is  kept  in  the  Old  Dominion  to 
play  Dandy  Nigger  for  the  whites. 

"Yes,  pap,  get  him  the  red  moccasins.  Let  him 
make  a  monkey  of  himself,  and  'be  somebody  and  so 
happy/  " 

Now,  you  must  know  that  our  hero,  though 
tough  to  reproof,  was  keenly  sensitive  to  ridicule — 
a  jimson  weed  to  that,  a  snap  dragon  to  this.  Hav 
ing  discovered  his  weakness,  his  mother  was  much 
in  the  habit  of  playing  upon  it,  as  the  only  means  of 


OUR  HERO  FALLS  IN  LOVE.  1$ 

persuasion  or  dissuasion  within  her  command  which 
was  likely  to  make  any  impression  upon  his  knotty 
young  rind.  So,  while  she  was  spinning  out  her 
rigmarole,  Sprigg  was  making  a  great  show  of  amus 
ing  himself  with  Pow-wow,  slapping  him  over  the 
muzzle  with  his  coonskin  cap,  or  setting  that  orna 
ment  in  divers  ways  on  the  old  dog's  head ;  now  with 
the  tail  over  the  right  ear,  then  over  the  left,  or  over 
the  nose ;  the  young  sauce-box  the  while  keeping  up, 
in  a  confidential  undertone  to  his  four-footed  chum, 
a  running  commentary  on  his  mother's  burlesque  of 
himself,  for  every  word  of  which  he  should  have  re 
ceived  a  sounding  spank. 

"Some    folks    think   they   are    monstrous    smart, 
don't  they,  Pow-wow?" 

"You  could  bark  up  a  tree  and  do  better  than 
that,  couldn't  you,  Pow-wow?" 

"Funny  enough  to  make  a  dog  laugh,  isn't  it, 
Pow-wow  ?" 

"Some  folks  ought  to  be  told  what  fools  they  are, 
oughtn't  they,  Pow-wow?" 

"Ding-dong  bell,  when  the  fools  are  all  dead, 
Then  we  will  have  plenty  of  butter  and  bread, 
won't  we,  Pow-wow?" 


20  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Meets  with  the  Object  of  His  Love. 

So,  next  Monday,  Jervis  Whitney  set  out  on  his 
long  tramp,  with  Pow-wow  for  company,  and  with 
Black  Bess,  his  rifle,  to  keep  them  supplied  with 
game,  their  chief  dependence  for  subsistence  while 
traveling  the  five  hundred  miles  of  wilderness,  which 
lay  between  them  and  their  old  home  beyond  the 
Alleghenies.  While  they  were  gone,  Sprigg  kept 
count  of  the  months  and  weeks  and  days,  and,  as 
they  went  silently  gliding  by,  he  went  silently  dream 
ing  on  about  the  red  moccasins.  Silently,  for  never 
another  word  said  he  to  his  mother  concerning  the 
matter  he  had  so  near  at  heart.  He  knew  she  would 
laugh  at  him,  and  call  him  a  monkey — our  hero,  bear 
in  mind,  being  as  touchy  to  ridicule  as  a  raw  mouth 
to  ginger.  You  might  scold  him  and  rate  him,  sneap 
him  and  snub  him,  to  a  degree  you  would  suppose 
sufficient  to  break  the  heart  of  any  boy  who  knew 
his  catchism,  yet  not  a  fig  nor  a  flint  would  he  care 
for  it  all.  Perhaps,  he  would  kick  up  his  heels  in 
the  very  face  of  your  reproof ;  or,  it  may  be,  merely 


MEETS  WITfl  THE  OBJECT  OF1  HlS  LOVE.  21 

wrinkle  up  his  saucy  young  knob  of  a  nose,  thereby 
saying  as  plainly  as  words  could  say  ft: 

"Thin!  thin! 

When  the  wise  waste  words,  then  fools  may  grin, 

So,  save  your  breath  for  a  rainy  day, 

Or  the  wind  will  blow  it  all  away ; 
Bottle  it  up  and  cork  it  fast, 
The  longer  you  keep  it,  the  longer  'twill  last." 

The  month  of  May  was  drawing  near  its  close. 
Night  was  spreading  its  dusky  shadows  over  the 
lonely  forest  home.  The  turkey-cock  had  gone  to 
its  rest ;  so  had  the  red-bird,  so  had  the  jay-bird ;  so 
had  Sprigg.  Elster  had  heard  her  boy  repeat  his 
prayers  and  was  now  singing  him  to  sleep  with  a 
hymn ;  a  pious  custom  which,  in  all  sincerity,  she  had 
faithfully  observed  from  his  infancy  up;  doing  her 
best,  from  night  to  night,  to  make  him  a  Christian, 
while  suffering  him,  from  day  to  day,  to  become 
more  and  more  of  a  heathen.  Such  parental  incon 
sistencies  were  rare  in  the  days  of  Mary  Washing 
ton,  but  are  so  common  nowadays  that  no  one  ex 
cepting  himself  or  herself  can  find  an  exception  to 
the  rule  except  at  home.  The  last  line  of  the  hymn 
had  just  been  sung,  and  Sprigg  was  making  his  last 
big  sleepy  wink  at  the  cradle  before  fairly  off  for 
nodland,  when  they  heard,  first,  a  glad  yelp  out  there 
in  the  yard,  which  they  thought  they  knew;  then  a 
brisk,  firm  step  on  the  loose  board  floor  of  the  porch, 
which  they  were  certain  they  knew.  Up  from  her 
chair  sprang  Elster;  up  from  his  bed  bounced 


22  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

Sprigg,  and  by  the  time  the  door,  with  a  ringing 
click  of  its  wooden  latch,  swung  open,  both  were 
there,  and  both  hugged  tight  in  the  long,  strong 
arms  of  husband  and  father. 

"Heaven  be  thanked!"  exclaimed  Elster,  kissing 

her  husband  for  the  ,  but  I  must  not  say  what 

number  of  times. 

"The  moccasins !  the  moccasins ! — where  are  my 
red  moccasins?"  cried  Sprigg,  who  had  not  kissed 
nor  hugged  his  father  once. 

"You  young  feather-pate!  you  jay-bird!"  ex 
claimed  Jervis.  "Can't  you  give  your  poor  pap 
some  little  sign  of  welcome  first?" 

"Oh!  then,  you  have  got  them!  You  have  got 
them !"  And  now,  assured  that  such  was  the  case, 
Sprigg  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to  hug  and  kiss  his 
father,  which  he  did  as  sleekly  and  lovingly  as  any 
he-kitten.  But  Sprigg  paid  for  this  bit  of  selfish 
ness,  and  that  dearly,  too.  Having  laid  Black  Bess  in 
the  rifle-hooks  over  the  fireplace,  and  hung  his  bear 
skin  cap  on  the  hook  to  the  left  and  his  ammunition 
pouch  and  powder  horn  on  the  hook  to  the  right, 
Jervis  hugged  and  kissed  his  wife  again.  Then, 
from  the  capacious  game  bag  which,  slung  by  a  strap 
from  the  shoulder,  he  wore  at  his  side,  he  began 
drawing  out  slowly  and  with  great  show  of  careful 
ness  a  small  package,  which  Sprigg  instinctively 
knew  to  be  the  object  of  his  heart's  desire.  The 
next  moment,  held  high  aloft  in  pap's  right  hand, 


MEETS  WITH  THE  OBJECT  OB*  HIS  LOVE\  23 

there  they  were  at  last,  in  plain  view  before  his  eyes, 
the  long  dreamed  of  red  moccasins.  How  beautiful 
looked  they.  Trimmed  with  the  finest  of  fur  and 
glittering-  all  over  with  the  brightest  of  beads,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  color — red,  as  the  reddest  of  leather 
could  be,  not  dyed  in  blood.  You  would  have 
laughed,  or,  perhays,  felt  more  like  crying,  to  have 
seen  the  poor,  vain  boy,  as  he  stood  there,  with  his 
heart  in  his  eyes,  gazing  gloatingly  up  at  the  moc 
casins  as  if  the  very  shine  of  them  had  charmed  him 
out  of  his  senses.  Thus  he  stood  for  several  mo 
ments  till,  giving  a  quick  turn  of  the  head,  he 
glanced  sharply  up  at  the  Indian  boy  on  the  show 
bill,  as  if  half  expecting  to  find  the  young  horseman 
stripped  of  his  moccasins  and  now  performing  his 
equestrian  antics  in  bare  feet. 

"Jervis,"  said  Elster,  grieved  and  provoked,  "I 
am  so  surprised  that  you  should  indulge  our  boy  in 
so  ridiculous  a  fancy,  as  were  he,  after  all,  the 
monkey  he  would  make  himself.  I  had  no  idea  that 
you  would  ever  give  the  whim  a  second  thought. 
Why  did  you  not  get  him  the  boots  you  have  been 
promising  him?  Throw  the  moccasins  into  the  fire 
and  let  us  be  rid  of  the  nuisance  at  once!  If  you 
won't,  I  will !" 

"Mum,  Elster!  Mum!  I  neither  bought  them 
nor  sought  them.  They  were  sent  as  a  present  to 
our  boy  by  some  one,  who  said  that  he  was  one  of 
Sprigg's  very  best  friends ;  and  that  he  could  not  do 


24  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

a  better  part  by  our  boy  and  ourselves,  too,  than  to 
let  him  have  them  and  wear  them,  a  little  experience 
being  all  that  he  needed  to  disenchant  him  of  his 
fancy.  'Our  boy's  case,'  said  he,  'was  like  a  man's 
case,  whose  heart  is  set  on  matrimony — a  little  lively 
experience  being  all  that  was  needed  to  cure  him  of 
his  hankering  and  set  him  right  with  matrimony,  so 
with  moccasins.'  Quoting,  Elster;  understand  me, 
now,  only  quoting :  Thirteen  years  of  lively  experi 
ence,  and  here  am  I,  just  as  far  from  being  cured  as 
I  was  the  day  we  went  to  the  show,  and  your  case 
every  whit  as  desperate.  But  here  stands  the  boy 
like  one  bewitched.  Sprigg!" 

The  boy  giving  a  big  start,  the  spell,  which  the 
moccasins,  or  his  own  fancy,  or,  it  were  hard  to  say 
what,  had  thrown  upon  him,  was  snapped  in  a  twin 
kle,  and  recovering  the  use  of  his  tongue,  he  cried 
out :  "Let  me  try  them  on  !  Let  me  try  them  on !" 
and  on  they  were  in  a  trice.  "Look,  look!  Do  but 
see  how  nicely  they  fit !  Oh,  what  beautiful  shoes !" 
And  the  boy  began  dancing  about  the  room  in  a 
fashion  so  fantastic  as  were  enough  to  make  one 
fancy  that  what  he  had  on  his  feet  were  rriedicine 
moccasins,  which  could  carry  him  whithersoever  and 
in  what  manner  soever  might  please  him,  or  might 
please  them.  In  the  extravagance  of  his  delight 
he  ran  up  to  Pow-wow,  where  he  sat  on  the  hearth, 
and  gave  him  an  affectionate  hug;  then,  taking  the 
old  dog's  paws  in  his  han^1  and  shaking  it  heartily, 


MEETS  WITH  THE  OBJECT  OP  HIS  LOVE.  25' 

said:  "How  are  you,  old  pard,  and  did  you  bring 
your  Sprigg  the  red  moccasins?  Yes,  that  you  did, 
and  you  shall  have  a  good  meat-bone  for  it,  too ;  that 
you  shall."  And  going  to  the  cupboard,  like  old 
Mother  Hubbard,  to  get  the  poor  dog  a  bone,  Sprigg 
found  there  three  ribs  of  a  bear,  and  so  the  poor 
dog  had  plenty. 

"Sprigg,"  said  Elster,  in  a  grieved  and  reproach 
ful  voice,  "are  all  your  thanks  for  the  dog?  Have 
you  none  for  pap?  Poor  pap,  who  has  been  gone 
so  long  and  traveled  so  far,  and  has  come  home  so 
weary,  and  has  been  so  kind  to  bring  you  the  moc 
casins,  which,  of  all  things  else,  you  have  most  de 
sired  !  Shame  upon  you !  Who  would  have  thought 
that  our  boy  could  have  shown  himself  so  thankless !" 

Sprigg  stopped  short  in  his  capers ;  looked  first 
at  his  mother  and  then  at  his  father,  and,  perceiving 
that  pap  also  seemed  hurt  and  grieved,  he  hung  his 
head,  but  not  this  time  to  look  at  the  moccasins.  It 
was  to  hide  the  blush  of  shame,  which,  redder  than 
they,  burst  up  from  his  heart  and  burned  in  his 
cheek — the  first  that  had  ever  been  seen  there. 
They  had  hardly  observed  the  change  and  wondered 
thereat  when  the  boy  burst  into  tears,  and  drawing 
off  the  moccasins  crept  back  to  bed.  Nor  could 
they  get  another  word  out  of  him  that  night,  though 
they  tried  hard  to  do  so — harder,  indeed,  than  was 
wise.  So,  at  last  they  gave  it  up  and  allowed  him  to 
sob  himself  to  sleep. 


26  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

But  all  night  long,  to  and  fro  and  up  and  down, 
were  the  red  moccaftins  walking  about  in  his  dreams. 
Sometimes  he  felt  as  if  they  were  treading  upon  his 
naked  heart  and  brain,  as  though  feet  were  in  them — 
cruel  feet,  which  took  a  delight  in  trampling  upon 
him,  and  once  or  twice  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  some 
wild  and  fearful  shape  of  the  night  were  clutching 
at  his  toes,  when  he  had  cried  out  in  a  fright :  "Oh ! 
the  red  moccasins!  How  they  hurt  my  feet!" 


HE  HAS  THEM— WHAT  SHALL.  HE  DO  WITH  THEM?    27 

CHAPTER  IV. 
He  Has  Them— What  Shall  He  Do  With  Them? 

But  the  first  broad  stare  of  the  day's  bright  eyes 
drove  all  these  dark  dreams  and  wild  shapes  of  the 
night  from  his  mind ;  and  nimble  and  fresh  as  a  jay 
bird — nimbler  and  fresher,  indeed,  than  was  his  wont 
— Sprigg  sprang  from  his  bed  and  donned  the  red 
moccasins.  Yes,  shod  his  feet  the  first  thing;  and, 
leaving  his  breeches  to  cover  the  naked  legs  of  the 
stool,  he  went  out  on  the  front  porch,  there  to  take 
his  morning  airing  and  see  what  color  red  moccasins 
were  by  daylight.  Here,  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  he 
was  found  by  his  mother,  strutting  to  and  fro  like 
a  poung  peacock  in  the  pride  of  his  first  tail  feathers. 
The  morning  breezes  briskly  fluttering  his  only  gar 
ment  and  doing  all  they  could  for  his  health.  Pro 
voked  to  find  him  at  so  late  an  hour,  in  such  a  guise, 
which  was  full  six  inches  too  short  for  any  guise  at 
all,  Elster  gave  the  "rising  hope  and  promise"  a 
spank,  which  would  have  done  you  good  to  see  and 
hear,  and  bade  him  go  and  finish  his  toilet  and  per 
form  his  morning  ablutions — all  in  a  hurry,  too,  or 
she  would  give  his  bread  and  milk  to  Pow-wow. 
Whereat  the  hopeful  youngster  kicked  up  his  heels, 
and,  as  it  pleased  him  for  once  to  be  obedient,  ran 


28  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

and  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  in  a  trice  was  ready 
for  his  bread  and  milk,  which,  in  the  glee  of  the 
moment,  he  shared  with  Pow-wow. 

The  day  succeeding  pap's  return  chanced  to  be 
Sunday,  so  Sprigg,  as  a  matter  of  course,  was  al 
lowed  to  wear  the  red  moccasins  from  morning  till 
night,  just  by  way  of  making  him  sensible.  How 
much  better  and  more  dearly  to  be  remembered  that 
day  was  than  Monday,  or  any  other  day  of  the  week. 
But  a  too  full  Sunday  makes  an  empty  Monday,  as 
Mother  Goose  herself  has  covertly  hinted  in  the 
well  known  lines : 

"As  Tommie  Snooks  and  Bessie  Brooks 

Were  walking  out  on  Sunday, 

Says  Tommie  Snooks  to  Bessie  Brooks: 

'To-morrow  will  be  Monday.'" 

The  next  day,  not  being  permitted  to  wear  the 
red  moccasins,  our  hero  grew  tenderfooted  and  ill 
at  ease  with  the  ground  he  needs  must  walk  on,  and 
more  than  once,  with  a  moccasin  in  each  hand,  did 
he  go  to  his  mother  and  lay  before  her  his  trouble  of 
mind. 

"Mam,  I  do  wish  that  I  could  go  to  grandpap's 
house  to-day." 

"And  why  do  you  wish  to  go  to  grandpap's 
house?" 

"To  wear  my  red  moccasins  to  church  next  Sun 
day." 


HE  HAS  THEM— WHAT  SHALL  HE  DO  WITH  THEM?    29 

"I  have  set  my  foot  on  your  moccasins  there,  my 
boy!"  and  Elster,  for  once,  laid  down  the  law,  with 
a  look  and  tone  of  decision  which  put  it  in  force 
right  there  on  the  spot.  "To  church  your  red  tom 
fooleries  never  shall  go  while  I  have  a  membership 
there!" 

"Well,  then,  if  not  to  church,  to  grandmam's 
quilting?" 

"I  rather  think  you  will  have  to  wait  for  the  day. 
Grandmam  will  hardly  get  up  a  quilting  just  to  give 
you  a  chance  of  showing  off  your  moccasins." 

"And  how  long  shall  I  have  to  wait  for  the  day?" 

"Monday — Wednesday — eight — ten  days,"  re 
plied  Elster,  counting  them  off  on  her  fingers. 

Giving  a  backward  jerk  of  the  heel,  expressive  of 
impatience,  the  spoilt  boy  exclaimed:  "Oh,  how 
long  a  time  to  wait!  Where's  the  use  of  a  feller's 
always  waiting?" 

"A  kick  in  the  ribs  may  make  old  Blue  Blaze 
quicken  her  pace,  but  if  you  want  Old  Time  to 
quicken  his  you  must  neither  kick  him  nor  seize  him 
by  the  forelock,  but  catch  him  by  the  tail  and  do  your 
best  to  hold  him  back;  then  he'll  go  fast  enough,  I 
warrant  you !  So  go  along  with  your  moccasins  and 
put  them  away  in  the  chest,  or  the  rats  and  mice 
will  gnaw  them,  as  rats  and  mice  are  always  sure  to 
do  with  everything  of  the  sort  we  set  our  hearts  too 
much  on.  Then  go  to  the  woods  and  play  like  a 
bird.  Pow-wow  will  go  along  with  you  and  show 
you  how — be  glad  to  do  it." 

3 


30  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

Sprigg  and  Pow-wow  went  out  to  play,  but  the 
dog  was  more  like  a  bird  than  the  boy.  The  glad 
light  was  gone  from  his  heart.  His  heart  was  in 
the  chest  with  his  treasures — his  treasures  denied 
him  as  too  precious  for  every  day  and  Sunday  too. 
Barefooted  and  out  of  sorts,  he  dragged  along 
through  the  idle  hours.  He  should  have  been  hoe 
ing  corn ;  and,  when  the  night  was  come  and  the  jay 
bird  went  to  his  nest  with  a  thankful  heart,  Sprigg 
went  to  his  with  nothing  of  the  kind,  and,  therefore, 
had  no  pleasant  dreams.  Nor  was  this  all.  That 
night,  for  the  third  time  in  his  life — the  second  being 
the  night  before,  and  the  first  the  night  before  that — 
Sprigg  went  to  his  rest  without  saying  "Now  I  lay 
me  down  to  sleep,"  the  sweet  old  words  his  mother 
had  taught  him  to  speak  when  he  could  scarcely 
speak  at  all,  and  which  he  could  never  fitly  and  truly 
speak  again,  so  long  as  the  red  moccasins  and  the 
like  vain  fancies  filled  his  heart.  The  next  day,  iller 
at  ease  than  ever — all  but  desperate — he  went  to  his 
mother,  where,  banging  away  at  her  ponderous 
loom,  she  was  just  finishing  a  nice  piece  of  flax  linen 
for  him  and  pap,  thus  renewing  the  subject: 

"Mam,  wouldn't  you  like  to  know  how  the  old 
folks  are  at  the  fort  to-day?" 

"Yes,  indeed;  that  I  would!" 

"And  wouldn't  you  like  for  me  to  go  and  see  how 
they  are  ?" 

"And  wear  your  red  moccasins?"  added  his 
mother,  with  a  mocking  smile, 


HE  HAS  THEM — WHAT  SHALL.  HE  DO  WITH  THEM?     31 

"I  could  carry  the  moccasins  in  my  hands." 

"And  who  would  carry  your  feet?" 

"Shank's  mare  can  carry  my  feet,  for  Shank's 
mare  can  carry  double." 

"But  Shank's  mare  is  tenderfooted,  and  there  are 
twenty  miles  of  stony  hills  and  shaggy  woods  be 
tween  here  and  the  fort.  Besides,  Shank's  mare 
could  never  find  the  way." 

"Yes,  but  I  can!  You  first  go  by  the  hunting 
camp,  then  by  the  Lick,  then  by  the  sugar  camp",  and 
the  next  thing  you  know  you  are  there." 

"Now,  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  The  Lick  comes  be 
fore  the  hunting  camp,  and  there  is  no  sugar  camp  at 
all.  So  the  next  thing  you  know  you  are  not  there, 
but  lost.  Besides  all  this,  there  are  a  thousand  wild 
things  in  the  woods,  which  even  a  strong  man  with 
out  his  gun  and  knife  would  not  be  willing  to  run 
the  risk  of  meeting.  So  just  content  yourself  to 
stay  at  home,  my  boy,  until  to-morrow  week,  when 
we  shall  all  be  going  to  grandmam's  quilting,  and 
you  will  have  somebody  to  keep  you  out  of  harm's 
way." 

"I  could  go  now  and  get  back  in  time  to  go  then, 
too,"  urged  Sprigg,  who  was  in  a  fair  way  of  sliding 
off  into  one  of  his  pets. 

"But  Sprigg,  have  you  so  soon  forgotten  what 
pap  was  telling  us  last  night  of  his  adventures  be 
tween  here  and  our  old  home?  Once  he  was  by 
three  Indians  chased  far  into  the  night,  and  pressed 


32  THK  RED  MOCCASINS. 

so  closely  that  he  only  saved  himself  by  leaping  from 
a  high  bank  into  a  deep  river,  where,  as  good  luck 
would  have  it,  a  thick  growth  of  rushes  fringed  the 
water's  edge,  thus  affording  him  a  hiding  place  until 
the  savages  gave  up  the  pursuit.  Then  there  was 
that  other  adventure  with  the  two  Indians,  in  which 
he  should  certainly  have  lost  his  life  but  for  the 
timely  assistance  of  brave  Pow-wow.  Now,  Sprigg, 
what  would  you  do  miles  and  miles  away  from  home, 
in  the  dark  and  lonesome  woods,  were  you  to  see 
one  of  these  terrible  red  men  running  to  meet  you, 
yelling  like  a  demon — all  hideously  painted,  rifle  in 
hand,  belt  stuck  full  of  tomahawks  and  scalping 
knives,  eh?" 

"I  would  scamper  away  as  fast  as  Shank's  mare 
could  carry  me,"  promptly  rejoined  our  hero,  who, 
though  vain  as  a  young  peacock,  was  as  bold  as  a 
young  game-cock.  Elster  continued : 

"And,  Sprigg,  there  are  bears  in  the  woods,  who 
have  such  a  fancy  for  little  boys  that,  should  they 
find  one  astray  too  close  to  their  den,  they  would 
hug  him,  and  hug  him,  till  there  would  not  be  enough 
breath  left  in  his  body  to  carry  him  home.  So  he 
stays  just  there ;  and  when  he  is  found,  if  ever  he  is 
found  at  all,  the  grass  and  the  weeds  and  the  dead 
leaves  of  the  trees  have  gathered  about  him  and 
covered  him  up — nothing  left  but  his  bones  and  his 
buttons  to  tell  you  whether  his  name  was  John  or 
Sprigg.  And,  Sprigg"  here  Elster  lowered  her 


HE  HAS  THEM— WHAT  SHALL  HE  DO  WITH  THEM?    33 

voice  as  if  he  of  whom  she  would  speak  might  hear 
her — "there  is  one  bear  in  the  woods  so  large  and 
strong  and  bold  that  five  dogs  as  large  and  strong 
and  bold  as  Pow-wow  would  be  no  match  for  him  in 
a  fight.  Hunters  who  have  lived  much  alone  in  the 
forest — red  hunters,  as  well  as  white — say  that 
neither  arrow  nor  bullet  has  power  to  kill  him. 
Though  the  eye  of  the  marksman  be  as  keen  as  that 
of  a  lynx,  and  his  hand  as  steady  and  firm  as  the  limb 
of  an  oak,  and  his  bullet  as  swift  as  the  red  bolt  shot 
from  the  edge  of  a  storm  cloud — all  will  avail  him 
nothing;  for,  in  a  flash  of  time,  where  but  the  mo 
ment  before  appeared  a  bear,  the  hunter  now  sees 
nothing  but  a  vine-clad  rock,  or  a  moss-grown 
stump,  or  a  low,  thick  bush,  waving  its  green  head  to 
the  forest  winds.  Sometimes  no  shape  whatever  ap 
pears,  and  when  this  is  the  case,  while  yet  the  blue 
rifle  smoke  is  curling  up  over  his  head,  the  hunter 
will  hear,  just  there  in  the  empty  air  so  near  that  he 
could  lay  his  hand  on  the  spot,  a  low  laugh — 
He-he-he !  A  wild,  low  laugh  of  scorn  and  derision, 
which  causes  the  strong,  bold  man  to  quake  and 
quail  far  more  than  were  he  to  hear  the  loud,  fierce 
growl  of  a  bear  behind  him.  Saving  the  red  man, 
no  one  knows  who  or  what  this  terrible  shape  of  the 
wilderness  is — where  he  dwells,  nor  how  he  exists; 
whom  he  loves,  nor  whom  he  hates;  but  white  men 
call  him  'Nick  of  the  Woods.' " 


34  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

CHAPTER  V. 

Who  Gave  Sprigg  The  Red  Moccasins? 

"Will-o'-the-\Visp. 
Some  would  wear  our  moccasins  red, 
Though  the  road  should  lead  to  the  dead. 
Some  would  wear  our  coronals  green, 
Who  would  keep  themselves  unseen  ! 
Jervis  Whitney  !    Jervis  Whitney  ! " 

So  sang  a  wild  and  musical  voice  out  there  in  the 
woods ;  and  halting  suddenly  and  cocking  his  gun, 
Jervis  Whitney  stood  on  his  guard. 

"Will-o'-the-Wisp! 
None  shall  wear  our  moccasins  red, 
On  the  road  that  leads  to  the  dead. 

None  shall  wear  our  coronals  green, 
But  to  see  themselves  as  they  are  seen! 
Jervis  Whitney!    Jervis  Whitney  ! " 

Again  sang  the  voice  out  there  in  the  night ;  and 
looking  straight  before  him,  his  eyes  upon  the  spot 
where  a  speaker  should  be,  Jervis  Whitney  saw  never 
a  living  thing;  saw  nothing  but  the  moss-grown 
trunk  of  a  tree,  where  it  lay  on  the  ground,  not  ten 
paces  distant,  with  the  moonlight  shining  full  upon 
it. 

What  I  am  now  telling  you  happened  last  Satur 
day  night,  on  which,  as  you  will  remember,  Jervis 
Whitney  returned  from  their  old  Virginia  home. 


WHO  GAVE  SPRIGG  TflE  RED  MOCCASINS?  35 

He  was  within  a  mile  of  his  journey's  end,  and  had 
reached  a  glade  in  the  forest  where  there  was 
scarcely  a  tree  or  bush  to  break  the  clearest  of 
moonlight  with  a  shadow,  when  his  ear  was  caught 
by  the  voice  of  the  invisible  speaker. 

"Who  calls  Jervis  Whitney?"  now  in  his  turn 
cried  the  White  Hunter,  looking  in  wonder  all 
around  him,  far  and  near,  still  seeing  never  a  shape 
of  life  that  could  call  a  man  by  name. 

"I  do!"  answered  the  voice.  "I,  the  king  of  the 
Manitous ;  or,  as  you  white  men  call  me,  Nick  of  the 
Woods."  And  with  these  words  there  seemed  to 
perch  on  the  tree  trunk,  whence  the  voice  proceeded, 
what  seemed  a  magnificent  bird  of  bright  green 
plumage,  and  there  beside  it,  visible,  stood  the  mys 
terious  speaker. 

It  was  a  manikin,  scarcely  more  than  a  yard  in 
height,  but  beautifully  formed,  with  limbs  as  round 
and  strong  as  those  of  a  roebuck.  In  color  and  fea 
ture,  the  style  of  his  face  was  that  of  the  Indian,  as 
was,  indeed,  his  whole  external  appearance,  except 
ing  that,  instead  of  the  characteristic  scalp-lock,  he 
wore  all  his  hair,  which,  straight,  thick  and  long,  fell 
in  a  sable  gleam  to  his  shoulders.  He  wore  a  bear 
skin  robe,  which,  secured  at  the  throat  by  a  clasp 
which  seemed  to  be  a  pair  of  claws  interlocked,  hung 
gracefully  about  his  form ;  on  the  hair  side,  fresh  and 
sleek ;  on  the  flesh  side,  smooth  as  satin  and  red  as 
blood.  His  airy  little  feet  were  shod  with  a  pair  of 


36  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

red  moccasins,  all  agleam  with  bright-colored  beads, 
which  shone  like  rubies  and  diamonds  in  the  glister 
ing  moonlight.  The  object,  which  the  white  hunter 
at  first  glance  had  supposed  to  be  a  large,  green 
bird,  now  proved  to  be  a  kind  of  feathered  hat,  or 
coronal,  resembling  those  worn  by  Indian  sachems 
when  in  full  dress.  The  red  mist-cap  of  the  fairies 
possessed  the  magic  power  of  rendering  the  person 
who  wore  it — man,  as  well  as  elf — invisible  to  mor 
tal  eyes.  That  the  white  hunter  might  use  his  eyes 
as  well  as  ears,  and  thus  stand  on  equal  terms  in  the 
interview,  which  had  opened  at  a  disadvantage  to 
him,  the  elf  had  laid  aside  his  magic  headpiece,  and 
now  stood  as  plainly  revealed  to  bodily  vision  as  the 
brightest  of  moonlight  could  show  him. 

"And  what  can  Jervis  Whitney  do  for  Nick  of 
the  Woods?"  at  length  said  the  hunter,  after  eyeing 
the  manikin  over  from  top  to  toe  for  some  moments 
in  silent  wonder,  as  well  he  might. 

"For  Nick  of  the  Woods,"  replied  the  elf,  "Jervis 
Whitney  can  do  nothing;  nor  could  he  were  he  king 
of  the  earth.  But  for  Jervis  Whitney,  Nick  of  the 
Woods  can,  and  is  willing  to,  do  much."  And  the 
elf  paused. 

"Well,  say  on,"  said  the  hunter,  as,  uncocking  his 
rifle  and  setting  it  on  the  ground,  he  propped  his 
chin  upon  the  muzzle,  thereby  signifying  his  readi 
ness  to  listen.  The  elf  resumed: 

"You  have  a  son,  who  goes  by  the  name  of 
Sprigg,  I  think." 


WHO  GAVE  SPRIGG  THE  RED  MOCCASINS?  37 

"Yes,  that  have  I ;  and  a  rare  young  buck  he  is. 
As  antic  at  times  in  his  capers  as  were  he  kin  to  an 
elf." 

"Has  he  not  teased  you  much  of  late  for  a  pair 
of  red  moccasins?"  And  pat  to  the  question,  the 
manikin  thrust  out  one  of  his  small  moccasined  feet. 
"And  did  he  beg  you  to  get  him  a  pair  while  you 
were  gone  to  the  land  of  Pocahontas  ?" 

Jervis  started.  He  had  never  given  the  matter 
a  serious  thought,  there  being  no  monkeys  as  yet  in 
the  country  to  create  a  demand  for  the  article  in 
question.  After  musing  a  moment  he  answered: 

"Yes,  it  is  even  so,  though  I  must  confess  that 
the  thing  had  quite  escaped  my  memory.  But  grant 
ing  it  to  be  as  we  say,  how  does  the  circumstance  in 
terest  Nick  of  the  Woods  ?" 

"Listen!"  replied  the  Manitou  king.  "I  also 
have  a  son,  who  goes  by  the  name  of  Manitou-Echo, 
until  you  white  men  christen  him  more  to  your  fancy. 
Now  my  son  Manitou-Echo  has  fallen  in  love  with 
your  son  Sprigg,  Sprigg  being  a  boy  more  after  his 
own  heart  than  any  young  human  being  he  has 
known  for  more  than  a  hundred  years.  Of  all  fleet- 
footed  fairies,  Manitou-Echo,  be  it  known,  is  the 
fleetest,  and  it  Is  the  chief  delight  of  his  existence  to 
run  races  with  fast  boys.  Sprigg,  he  says,  is  the 
fastest  boy  that  has  skipped  upon  the  green  earth 
since  the  days  of  Little  Winged  Moccasin,  the  boy 
who  ran  to  the  setting  sun  in  quest  of  his  shadow, 

452619 


38  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

which  he'  had  lost  at  noonday.  So,  then,  my  son 
Manitou-Echo  is  burning  to  run  a  race  with  your  son 
Sprigg." 

"Well,  and  how  is  my  son  Sprigg  to  run  this 
race  with  your  son  Manitou-Echo?"  and  the  hunter 
crossed  his  legs,  still  with  his  chin  propped  on  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun,  an  attitude  characteristic  of  hunt 
ers,  from  Robin  Hood,  in  the  cross-bow  days  of 
Merry  England,  to  Daniel  Boone,  in  the  rifle  days  of 
green  Kentucky. 

"True,"  rejoined  Nick  of  the  Woods,  "Sprigg, 
with  merely  his  own  bare  feet  to  go  on,  would  stand 
but  a  slender  chance  in  a  trial  of  speed  with  Manitou- 
Echo.  Therefore,  to  put  him  on  an  equal  footing 
for  the  feat,  Sprigg  must  be  furnished  with  a  pair 
of  red  moccasins  such  as  we  elves  wear."  And  the 
elf  again  thrust  out  his  moccasined  feet,  by  way  of 
exemplification. 

"But,  while  we  shall  be  doing  so  much  to  please 
the  whim  of  your  son  Manitou-Echo,  what  shall  we 
be  doing  to  please  or  benefit  my  son  Sprigg?" 

"Pat  to  the  point!"  quoth  Nick  of  the  Woods. 
"The  very  thing  I  was  coming  to  next — the  main 
thing,  indeed,  which  has  led  me  to  seek  this  inter 
view  with  Sprigg's  father.  I  should  hardly  have 
come  a  thousand  miles  out  of  my  way,  since  set  of 
sun,  had  it  been  merely  to  gratify  Manitou-Echo  in 
an  elfish  whim.  In  brief,  then,  and  in  sweet  earnest, 
too,  the  object  we  have  in  view  is  intended  mainly 


WHO  GAVE  SPRIGG  THE  RED  MOCCASINS  ?          39 

for  Sprigg's  own  good;  and,  as  the  means  to  this 
end,  my  son  Manitou-Echo  has  sent,  as  a  present 
to  your  son  Sprigg,  a  pair  of  red  moccasins,  to  put 
him,  as  I  have  just  said,  on  an  equal  footing  in  the 
trial  of  speed  between  them.  Refuse  the  gift,  and 
nothing  shall  follow  therefrom,  be  it  for  good  or  for 
evil.  Accept  the  gift,  and  good — nothing  but  good 
— shall  come  of  it,  sooner  or  later." 

Here,  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  had  his  say, 
and  now  but  awaits  your  final  answer  to  take  fair 
leave  of  you,  the  Manitou  paused.  Jervis  Whitney 
did  the  like,  remaining  silent  for  many  moments, 
half  in  doubt,  half  in  debate,  his  eyes  bent  fixedly 
the  while  upon  his  companion.  At  length,  very 
dubiously,  indeed,  he  answered: 

"I  must  confess,  were  we  to  drop  the  matter  just 
here,  I  should  be  left  as  much  in  the  mist  as  if  you 
had  kept  your  mist-cap  on  your  head  and  allowed  me 
only  the  use  of  my  ears.  Will  you  please  enlighten 
me,  sir,  with  a  few  more  gleams  of  your  moonshine  ?" 

"Certainly,  sir;  certainly!"  rejoined  Nick  of  the 
Woods,  with  an  obliging  smile  and  a  courteous  wave 
of  the  hand.  "I  perceive  you  are  something  of  a 
philosopher,  by  wishing  to  view  the  subject  in  that 
light.  Know,  then,  that  Sprigg's  fancy  for  red  moc 
casins  has  grown  to  i>e  the  one  idea  of  his  mind — a 
hankering,  so  to  speak;  and  the  best  cure  in  the 
world  for  a  hankering,  as  everybody  knows,  is  a 
strong,  sudden,  overwhelming  dose  of  the  thing  so 


40  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

hankered  after.  Sprigg's  case  is  like  that  of  a  man's 
case,  whose  heart  is  dead  set  on  matrimony — a  little 
experience,  tough  and  lively,  being  all  that  is  needed 
to  cure  him  of  the  hankering  and  restore  him  to  a 
healthy  condition  of  mind.  As  with  matrimony,  so 
with  moccasins." 

"I  am  glad  that  Elster  is  not  present  to  hear  that 
speech ;  else  should  I  feel  constrained  to  send  a  bul 
let  through  your  bearskin,  just  by  way  of  giving  you 
the  lie,  and  of  satisfying  her  that  I  am  the  truest  of 
husbands,  as  she  is  the  best  of  wives,  although  I  am 
perfectly  aware  that  it  would  be  a  waste  of  powder 
and  lead,  having  once  or  twice  in  my  time  sent  my 
bullet  after  a  bear,  and  found  that,  without  missing 
my  mark,  I  had  shot  nothing." 

"And  I  should  esteem  you  all  the  more  highly  for 
doing  so  much  to  please  your  wife,"  rejoined  Nick  of 
the  Woods,  with  increased  complacency;  "and  my 
wife,  Meg  of  the  Hills,  were  she  present,  also,  at  the 
time,  would  cordially  join  in  my  expression  of  com 
mendation.  When  I  say,  'as  with  matrimony,  so 
with  moccasins/  it  is  merely  by  way  of  illustration, 
and  is  not  to  be  understood  as  an  expression  of  my 
private  sentiments.  Our  married  life — Meg's  and 
mine — began  with  that  of  Adam  and  Eve,  and  our 
honeymoon  is  not  yet  on  the  wane.  Just  here,  I 
should  be  tempted  to  go  off  at  a  tangent  into  wide 
digression,  had  long  observation  not  taught  me  that 
there  is  nothing  so  galling  to  a  hunter's  patience  as 


WHO  GAVE  SPKIGG  THE  RED  MOCCASINS?  41 

a  hang-fire  gun.  As  with  a  gun,  so  with  a  speaker. 
Then,  in  fine,  I  will  say,  'trust  me,  and  to  the  latest 
day  of  your  life  you  never  shall  rue  it,  though  you 
should  live  until  the  Indian,  the  deer  and  the  Mani- 
tou  cease  to  exist/  " 

Then,  as  if  he  had,  indeed,  made  an  end  of  his 
say,  the  Manitou  king  picked  up  his  crown  of  plumes 
and  placed  it  upon  his  head,  when  straight  he  was 
no  more  to  be  seen  than  the  transparent  air  around 
him.  The  next  instant,  with  a  magnificent  somerset 
curve,  full  ten  feet  aloft  in  the  air,  a  pair  of  red  moc 
casins  plumped  themselves,  as  if  firm  little  feet  were 
in  them,  square  in  front  of  the  hunter,  where  he 
stood — with  his  chin  still  propped  on  the  muzzle  of 
his  gun  and  his  legs  still  crossed?  I  rather  think 
not !  "Leave,  and  lose !  Take,  and  gain !  But 
leave  or  take,  it  is  all  one  to  Nick  of  the  Woods !" 
And  hardly  were  the  words  spoken,  just  there  in  the 
empty  moonlight,  when  a  whirr  in  the  leaves  and 
flutter  in  the  air  announced  that  the  elf  was  gone. 

For  many  moments  Jervis  Whitney  stood  there 
gazing  down  on  the  moccasins,  debating  within  him 
self,  with  a  look  of  great  perplexity,  whether  to  take 
them  or  to  leave  them.  He  went  over,  in  his  mind, 
all  that  had  been  said  by  the  elf,  and  so  well  said, 
too,  it  needs  must  be  as  well  meant,  odd  and  fantas 
tic  though  it  might  seem.  He  recalled  the  Manitou's 
aspect — so  clear  and  bright,  so  free  from  disguise; 
and,  withal,  as  beautiful,  while  so  Indian-like — as 


42  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

well  could  be  the  eyes  of  a  white  man,  who,  for  some 
years  past,  had  had  a  hard  scuffle  to  keep  his  scalp. 
Then,  too,  there  was  Pow-wow's  behavior  on  the 
occasion  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  There  was 
not  a  dog  west  or  east  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains 
who  had  a  sharper  nose  than  Pow-wow  for  detect 
ing  an  ill  wind;  yet,  all  this  while,  he  had  set  there 
on  his  haunches,  without  betraying  the  least  sign  of 
uneasiness  or  distrust,  nor  even  of  curiosity,  as  if  a 
Manitou  to  him  were  a  sight  as  familiar  as  a  jay 
bird,  and  no  more  to  be  barked  at.  Now,  the  real 
state  of  the  case  was  this :  Foreseeing  that  the  dog, 
dog-like,  would  be  for  putting  in  his  jaw  to  help  his 
master  out,  the  prudent  elf  had  thrown  a  spell  or 
charm  upon  him,  hoodwinking  not  his  eyes  only,  but 
also  his  ears  and  nose,  thus  making  one  side,  at 
least,  of  the  interview  as  blank  to  him  as  the  middle 
of  next  week.  Therefore,  not  a  glimpse  nor  a  sniff 
of  the  elf  had  Pow-wow  caught ;  nor  had  he  heard  a 
word  of  what  the  elf  had  said  from  "Will-o'-the- 
Wisp"  to  "Nick  of  the  Woods."  His  master,  he 
could  see  and  hear,  and  doubtless  marveled  much 
that  a  husband  and  father,  who  had  traveled  hun 
dreds  of  miles  to  be  with  his  wife  and  child  again, 
should  thus  hang  fire  within  dinner-horn  call  of 
home,  merely  to  hold  a  pow-wow  with  a  rotten  log. 
As  Jervis  could  no  more  see  the  charm  on  the  dog 
than  the  dog  the  charmer  on  the  log,  he  must  needs 
regard  the  orderly  deportment  of  his  dumb  com- 


WHO  GAVE  SPRIGG  THE  RED  MOCCASINS?  43 

panion — in  whose  sagacity  he  had  unbounded  con 
fidence — as  the  strongest  additional  evidence  he 
could  wish  for  confirming  him  in  the  favorable  view ; 
his  own  senses  had  already  inclined  him  to  take  off 
the  Manitou  and  the  matter  between  them.  At 
length  his  thoughts  shaped  themselves  into  a  con 
clusion,  which  he  thus  expressed  aloud: 

"I  have  never  known  a  dog  of  Pow-wow's  blood 
whose  instinct  did  not  tell  him  when  there  was  an 
enemy  near  his  master.  I  have  never  known  that 
man  to  deceive  me,  nor  try  to  deceive  me,  whose  eye 
spoke  with  his  tongue,  and  before  it  and  after  it,  as 
did  the  eye  of  the  strange  being  here  but  now.  To 
doubt  the  word  of  such  a  one,  were  to  do  him  a 
wrong.  To  refuse  the  gift  of  such  a  one,  might  be 
to  withhold  a  blessing  from  me  and  mine.  I  will 
take  the  moccasins  and  trust  this  Nick  of  the 
Woods." 


44  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Temptation  and  Flight. 

"  It  was  the  first  of  June,  the  day  on  which 
It  is  as  easy  for  the  heart  to  be  true, 
As  for  grass  to  be  green,  or  for  skies  to  be  blue." 

But  Sprigg's  heart  was  too  full  of  red  moccasins 
for  the  laughing  gladness  of  the  green  fields,  or  the 
smiling  delight  of  the  blue  sky,  to  find  any  place 
there.  What  his  mother  had  told  him  of  the  wild 
shapes  which  haunted  the  forest  had,  for  the  time, 
caused  his  heart,  bold  as  it  was  for  one  of  his  years, 
to  quake  with  a  nameless  dread,  which  seemed  to 
dog  his  shadow  wherever  he  went.  When  the 
shades  of  night  and  the  hours  of  sleep  were  come, 
these  wild  remembrances  took  the  form  of  wilder 
dreams,  which  vexed  and  scared  his  slumbers  till 
break  of  day.  But  next  day  was  the  first  of  June ; 
arid  the  sun  was  too  bright,  and  the  sky  too  blue,  and 
the  earth  too  green,  for  ugly  dreams  to  linger  long 
in  the  mind,  and  by  the  time  the  shadows  stood  still 
at  noon  Nick  of  the  Woods,  chasing  Indians,  hug 
ging  bears  and  the  like  terrors  of  the  forest  were  re 
membered  only  as  frightful  pictures  seen  in  a  book. 

Sprigg  had  dined ;  and  a  healthy  young  cub  of  a 
bear  never  cleaned  out  a  hive  of  honey  with  a  keener 
appetite  than  our  hero  his  bowl  of  milk  and  bread. 


TEMPTATION  AND  FLIGHT.  45 

For  the  seventh  time  that  day  he  had  looked  at  and 
tried  on  the  moccasins,  just  to  reassure  himself  that 
they  were  made  for  his  feet  and  nobody  else's,  and  to 
take  a  few  quiet  turns  in  them  about  the  room,  just 
to  see  if  they  felt  as  easy  as  they  fitted  well.  Now, 
with  greater  liveliness  and  earnestness  than  ever,  his 
thoughts  returned  to  the  matter  he  had  so  near  at 
heart ;  nor  would  they  let  him  rest  until  he  had  an 
swered  the  question  which,  for  the  seventh  time  that 
day,  he  had  put  to  himself:  "Shall  I  on  with  the 
moccasins  and  go  to  grandpap's  house  to-day?" 

The  good  voice  in  his  heart  said :  "No,  Sprigg ! 
No !  Don't  you  do  it !  Don't  even  think  of  such  a 
thing!  It  is  not  mam's  wish;  it  is  not  pap's  wish, 
that  you  should  venture  so  far  away,  through  the 
wild  and  dangerous  woods  all  alone!  It  would  vex 
and  grieve  them  a  thousand  times  more  than  it  could 
possibly  gratify  you.  So  stay  at  home,  Sprigg;  stay 
at  home,  and  have  a  care  how  you  let  red  moccasins 
tempt  you  astray !  Wait,  like  a  good  boy,  until  you 
can  go  with  pap  and  mam  to  grandmam's  quilting." 
But  quickly  spoke  up  the  bad  voice  in  his  heart 
and  said  :  "Go,  Sprigg !  Go  !  By  all  means  go,  and 
a  delightful  time  you  shall  have  of  it — be  sure  of 
that.  The  old  folks  won't  care  so  much — not  so 
very  much !  When  did  they  care  so  very  much  for 
anything  you  had  done,  even  though  it  might  not 
have  been  exactly  right.  So  up  and  away  to  grand- 
pap's  house !  and  ne^r  a  fear  that  a  pair  of  red  moc- 
4 


46  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

casins  could  take  you  anywhere  it  pleased  you  not 
to  go." 

The  good  voice  spoke  soft  and  low;  the  bad 
voice  loud  and  high.  Sprigg  heard  the  bad  voice 
best,  because  he  liked  it  best.  Still,  he  could  not 
fairly  make  up  his  mind.  Perhaps  the  moccasins 
could  help  him  to  decide.  He  went  to  the  chest  and, 
for  the  eighth  time,  took  them  out,  that  the  very 
thing  that  was  tempting  him  to  do  wrong  might  tell 
him  what  were  best  to  be  done.  As  he  stood  there, 
holding  up  the  red  temptation  in  the  fairest  light 
before  his  eyes,  he  thought  he  heard  a  noise,  coming, 
he  could  not  tell  whence,  which  caused  him  to  set  the 
moccasins  hastily  down  on  the  chest  lid  and  look 
about  him.  Nothing  was  there  to  be  seen  that  he 
had  not  seen  a  thousand  times  before.  In  a  little 
while  the  noice  shaped  itself  into  something  almost 
like  a  voice,  which  seemed  to  come  directly  up  from 
the  moccasins,  saying: 

"Are  we  not  beautiful  things  for  the  feet,  Sprigg? 
Oh,  but  we  are !  You  can't  deny  it !  On  with  us, 
and  away  to  grandpap's  house !" 

With  startled  eyes  the  boy  looked  all  around  him 
— not  a  living  thing  was  to  be  seen  in  the  room.  He 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again.  The  Indian  boy 
on  the  show  bill  was  the  nearest  approach  to  a  shape 
of  life  that  met  his  gaze.  He  clapped  his  hands  to 
his  ears  to  make  sure  they  had  not  played  him  a 
trick.  His  ears  were  all  right;  so  was  his  coonskin 


TEMPTATION  AND  FLIGHT.  47 

cap,  the  rim  before,  the  tail  behind.  What  seemed 
a  voice  began  again,  and,  for  the  life  of  him,  Sprigg 
could  not  determine  whether  it  came  from  the  moc 
casins  or  from  his  own  heart. 

"Who  plies  her  loom,  with  shuttle  and  beam,  and 
sings  at  her  work  with  so  blithe  a  heart?  Elster 
Whitney.  And  her  shuttle  shall  fly,  and  her  beam 
shall  bang,  from  hour  to  hour,  till  the  day  is  well 
nigh  done.  Who  roams  the  forest,  with  dog  and 
gun,  and  follows  the  chase  with  heart  so  bold? 
Jervis  Whitney.  And  his  dog  shall  bound,  and  his 
gun  shall  bang,  from  hour  to  hour,  till  the  day  is 
well  nigh  done.  So,  Sprigg,  the  day  is  clear,  and 
you  have  the  half  of  a  long,  bright,  summer  day  be 
fore  you.  Make  the  most  of  it!  There,  near  the 
fort,  where  grandpap  lives,  lives  young  Ben  Logan. 
Ben,  when  he  sees  you  coming,  all  by  your  own  lone 
self,  will  shout :  'Hurrah !  hurrah !  what  a  brave  boy 
is  Sprigg!'  Yet,  let  him  admire  your  bravery  ever 
so  much,  he  will  be  ready  to  die  of  very  envy,  be 
cause  of  your  beautiful  moccasins.  And  there  is 
little  Bertha  Bryant,  too,  at  the  fort ;  blue-eyed  little 
Bertha,  laughing  little  Bertha,  dancing  little  Bertha ! 
And  Bertha  will  admire  your  bravery  even  more 
than  Ben,  and  love  you  to  very  distraction,  because 
of  your  beautiful  moccasins.  On  with  us,  then,  and 
away  to  grandpap's  house.  We  know  the  road ;  we 
can  take  you  there  safely  enough.  Let  us  alone  for 
that !  and  Sprigg  is  a  brave  boy !  Who  said  our 
Sprigg  was  not  a  brave  boy  ?  He-he-he !" 


48  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

Sprigg  thought  he  heard  a  low  laugh ;  the  queer 
est  little  laugh  he  had  ever  heard.  A  laugh  he  did 
not  exactly  fancy,  because  it  made  the  chills  come 
creeping  up  his  back  and  set  his  flesh  to  creeping, 
and  caused  the  most  peculiar  sensations  about  the 
roots  of  the  hair  you  can  well  imagine.  So,  to  keep 
up  his  spirits,  he  forced  out  a  mechanical  sort  of  a 
sound,  meant  for  a  laugh,  after  which  he  felt  consid 
erably  better,  because  it  made  him  imagine  it  was  he 
who  laughed  but  now,  and  that  the  words  he  had 
heard  were  but  the  thoughts  of  his  own  heart. 

Sprigg's  mind  was  made  up :  He  would  go  to 
grandpap's  house  that  self-same  day.  But  he  dared 
not  put  on  the  moccasins  there  in  the  house,  lest  his 
mother  should  see  him  as  he  was  making  off  and  put 
her  foot  on  his  little  pet  project.  "I  have  it !"  said 
he  to  the  moccasins,  for  he  felt  that  they  knew  what 
was  afloat,  as  well  as  himself.  Pat  to  the  word,  he 
slipped  out  to  a  bench  in  the  yard,  where  Elster  had 
set  her  household  vessels  to  sun.  From  these  he 
took  their  large,  oak-bound  cedar  water  bucket  and 
brought  it  into  the  house.  In  this  he  concealed  the 
moccasins,  and,  with  a  cat-like  step,  stole  out  by  the 
way  of  the  front  porch.  But  just  as  he  was  climbing 
the  yard  fence,  his  mother,  who  had  left  off  her  work 
at  the  loom  for  a  few  minutes,  came  to  the  door  to 
throw  an  old  hen  and  her  brood  of  young  ones  some 
dough,  and  seeing  her  boy  on  the  fence  she  called 
out: 


TEMPTATION  AND  FLIGHT.  49 

"Where  now,  Sprigg,  so  brisk  and  spry,  with  my 
big  cedar  bucket?" 

"I  am  going  to  our  best  spring,  down  yonder  in 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  to  fetch  dear  mam  a  good, 
cool  drink  of  water." 

"Our  boy  will  be  a  credit  and  a  blessing  to  us  yet, 
let  the  wiseacres  predict  as  they  will !"  and  Elster 
returned  to  her  work  with  a  glad  heart,  that  her  son, 
for  once,  of  his  own  accord,  had  bethought  him  of 
doing  a  kind  turn  for  his  mother. 

Sprigg  sped  down  the  hill  till  he  reached  the  hol 
low  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  their  favorite 
spring,  screened  from  the  rays  of  the  noon-day  sun 
by  thick,  overhanging  trees,  came  bubbling  up  from 
under  a  mossy  ledge  of  rock.  Here,  in  the  dark, 
cool  shade,  he  sat  down  on  the  ground  to  put  on  his 
moccasins.  But  why  so  trembled  his  hands?  Why 
trembled  he  so  all  over  ?  And  why  did  he  fumble  so 
long  at  the  moccasin  latches?  It  was  the  guilt  of 
that  ugly  lie,  which  he  had  sent  back  to  his  mother, 
and  with  which  his  mouth  and  heart  were  now  all  hot 
and  foul. 

"Quick!  Quick!"  There  it  was  again  at  his 
side.  That  sound  so  like  a  voice.  "Right  and 
tight !  Brave !  Brave !  Who  said  our  Sprigg  was 
not  a  brave  boy  ?  He-he-he  !"  And,  while  the  voice 
was  yet  speaking,  the  moccasins  seemed  to  adjust 
themselves  to  his  feet  of  their  own  accord.  Now  he 
was  up,  and  now  he  was  speeding  away  through  the 


50  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

forest;  his  road,  one  of  those  buffalo-traces,  which, 
in  those  days,  formed  the  only  highways  through  the 
wilderness ;  the  road  of  all  others  to  lead  a  young 
runaway  wide  and  wild  of  his  mark.  Soon,  too  soon, 
was  Sprigg — vain  Sprigg,  bad  Sprigg,  poor  Sprigg— 
far  out  of  sight  of  home,  the  one  place  under  the  piti 
ful  heavens  where  the  young  and  the  aged,  the  weak 
and  the  helpless,  the  untried  and  the  overtried, 
should  look  for  happiness  and  peace  and  safety ! 

He  fled  with  his  face  toward  Sunset-land ;  but 
never  once  thought  he  of  Little  Winged  Moccasin. 
Elster  had  often  told  her  son  of  the  little  Indian  boy, 
who  ran  to  Sunset-land  in  quest  of  his  shadow,  which 
he  had  lost  at  noon-day.  The  legend  ran  thus : 

"There  was  a  Cherokee  boy,  who  discovered  one 
morning  at  sunrise  what  a  long  shadow  he  cast  on 
the  ground.  Whereat,  greatly  delighted,  he  cried 
out :  'Look !  look !  see  what  a  shadow  I  make ! 
See  what  a  giant  I  am !'  But  as  the  sun  rose  higher 
and  higher  his  shadow  grew  shorter  and  shorter, 
until,  at  noon,  it  had  dwindled  to  scarcely  a  span's 
length.  Whereupon,  he  set  up  a  loud  lamentation, 
when  suddenly  a  Manitou  appeared  before  him,  who 
wore  on  his  feet  a  pair  of  winged  red  moccasins. 

"  'What  grieves  you,  boy  ?'  said  the  Manitou. 

"  'I  have  lost  my  shadow !'  cried  the  boy. 

"  'Wait  until  sunset,  and  you  shall  find  it  again,' 
said  the  Manitou. 

"'But  I  have  not  the  patience  to  wait  so  long!' 


TEMPTATION  AND  PLIGHT.  51 

whined  the  boy.  'Could  I  but  get  there,  I  would  go 
to  Sunset-land,  to  live  forever,  where  the  shadows 
are  always  long!' 

"  'Look !'  said  the  Manitou,  'I  have  no  shadow  at 
all;  never  had,  neither  in  Sunset-land  nor  anywhere 
else.  Yet  am  I  perfectly  satisfied.' 

"  'Maybe  I  would  be  satisfied,  too,  without  one, 
had  I  never  had  one,'  put  in  the  boy. 

"  'Well,'  quoth  the  Manitou,  'since  you  are  not 
willing  to  wait  for  your  shadow  till  sunset,  and  must 
need  go  to  Sunset-land,  where  you  think  the  shadows 
are  always  long — here,  I  will  lend  you  my  moccasins, 
which,  being  winged,  will  enable  you  to  keep  pace 
with  the  sun,  and  arrive  at  Sunset-land  as  soon  as 
he.' 

"The  boy  put  on  the  moccasins ;  and,  in  a  trice, 
he  was  flitting  away  over  the  face  of  the  green  earth 
at  ten  times  the  speed  of  a  wild  goose  chased  by  the 
winds.  He  ran  and  ran,  nor  ceased  to  run,  even 
when  come  to  the  land  he  was  in  quest  of.  All  un 
witting  where  he  was,  or  whither  going,  on — right 
through  with  might  and  main  speed — on  and  on,  un 
til  he  had  put  the  Land  of  Sunrise  as  far  behind  him 
as  the  Land  of  Sunset  was  before  him;  nor  yet  had 
found  the  object  of  his  heart's  desire.  And  why? 
because  he  had  gone  the  wrong  course  and  the 
wrong  speed  to  keep  himself  in  the  right  light  for  the 
long  shadow.  Suddenly,  to  his  astonishment,  he 
found  himself  once  more  at  the  self-same  spot 


52  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

whence,  but  the  day  just  gone,  he  had  set  out  on  his 
wilder  than  a  wild  goose  chase;  and  there  was  the 
Manitou  waiting  for  him,  who,  with  a  twinkling 
smile,  said: 

'  'Boy,  have  you  found  your  shadow?' 

"The  poor  shadow-hunter  pointed  to  the  insig 
nificant  figure  he  still  made  on  the  earth  and  re 
mained  silent. 

"'Foolish  youth!'  exclaimed  the  Manitou,  'had 
you  but  been  content  to  remain  where  you  were  and 
abide  your  time,  you  would  have  found  your  shadow, 
not  only  at  sunset,  but  also  at  sunrise;  and  little 
enough  worth  the  seeking  at  that !  Thus,  have  you 
cheated  yourself  of  your  happiness  twice  from  being 
unwilling  to  wait  for  it  once !' ' 

No !  Poor  Sprigg  never  once  thought  of  Little 
Winged  Moccasin. 


MET— AND  ONLY  HIS  SHADOW  TO  BE  SEEN.  53 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Met — and  Only  His  Shadow  to  Be  Seen. 

Sprjgg  ran  for  more  than  a  mile  with  all  his 
might,  and  was  astonished  to  find  he  was  not  in  the 
least  degree  weary  or  short  of  breath.  Then  he 
thought  it  must  be  the  moccasins  making  his  feet 
so  light,  and  little  dreamed  he  how  swift ;  and  he  was 
all  the  more  certain  that  they  would  carry  him 
straight  to  grandpap's  house,  as  they,  or  the  voice, 
or  his  own  heart — it  were  hard  to  say  which — had 
promised.  With  this  discovery,  he  need  have  no  fear 
of  now  being  overtaken  and  carried  back  home  be 
fore  he  had  made  his  way  to  the  fort;  and,  once 
there,  fairly  nestled  under  grandmam's  wing.  He  well 
knew  from  pet-boy  experience  he  could  spin  out  his 
visit  until  it  should  please  him  to  remount  Shank's 
mare  and  trot  back  home  of  his  own  free  will.  His 
.  mind  thus  eased  from  the  apprehension  of  pursuit, 
there  was  nothing  to  hinder  him  now,  even  while 
moving  so  swiftly  along,  from  feasting  his  eyes  on 
his  beautiful  moccasins — so  red,  so  light,  so  fleet — . 

40 

so  brave  with  their  glittering  beads. 

The  light-footed  fawns  were  skipping,  like  lambs, 
in  the  sunlit  glades  of  the  forest.  The  glad-voiced 
birdlings  were  singing,  for  joy  of  the  summer,  in 


54  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

every  tree.  The  bright-eyed  flowerets  were  smiling 
in  every  sunny  spot  by  the  wayside,  and  doing  their 
utmost  to  make  the  wilderness  lovely.  But  the 
flowerets  might  smile,  and  the  birdlings  sing,  and  the 
fawns,  like  lambkins,  skip — they  skipped  and  sang 
and  smiled  in  vain  for  Sprigg!  His  eyes  were  on 
his  moccasins,  and  his  heart  was  in  his  eyes. 

The  boy  was  moving  along  in  this  half-dreamy 
state  of  self-admiration,  when  his  ear  was  caught 
by  a  noise,  as  of  feet,  which  stirred  the  leaves  and 
came  on  with  a  quick,  quick  tramp.  He  started  and 
looked  up.  Started  again,  then  stood  stock  still. 
What  think  you  Sprigg  saw  there,  in  the  wild  and 
lonesome  woods?  A  gaunt-ribbed  wolf,  with  teeth 
so  long  and  sharp?  No,  not  a  wolf.  A  shaggy^ 
coated  bear,  with  claws  so  long  and  sharp?  Xo.  not 
a  bear,  nor  panther,  nor  yet  a  wild-cat !  Then  it 
must  have  been  an  Indian,  as  Elster  had  pictured, 
all  hideously  painted,  with  a  tomahawk  in  his  right 
hand,  a  scalping  knife  in  his  left,  and,  by  this  time, 
yelling  like  a  demon !  No,  nor  an  Indian  either. 
Only  pap  and  Pow-wow;  pap,  rifle  on  shoulder,  not 
ten  paces  distant,  and  Pow-wow  so  near  that  Sprigg 
could  easily  have  laid  his  hand  on  his  dear  old  play 
fellow's  shaggy  head. 

The  boy's  first  impulse  was  to  slink  aside  and 
hide  himself  in  a  thick  clump  of  bushes  which  grew 
by  the  wayside ;  but  it  was  too  late,  his  father's  eyes 
were  already  fixed,  or  seemed  to  be  fixed,  directly 


MET — AND  ONLY  HIS  SHADOW  TO  BE  SEEN.  55 

upon  him.  So  he  remained  perfectly  motionless 
where  he  was,  standing,  too,  in  the  very  midst  of  a 
bright  spot  of  sunlight — the  only  one  which,  just 
there,  broke  the  sombre  shade  of  the  forest.  Pow 
wow  trotted  on  by,  nor  wagged  his  tail  in  greeting 
to  his  young  master,  nor  even  so"  much  as  raised  his 
nose  from  the  ground  to  sniff  at  him.  His  father 
passed  on  by ;  passed  within  arm's  length  of  his  own 
flesh  and  blood,  nor  yet  extended  his  hand  to  touch 
him,  nor  even  so  much  as  moved  his  lips  to  speak  to 
him.  What  might  this  mean? 

"He-he-he !" 

And  a  low,  wild  laugh  went  out  on  the  air.  All 
three  jumped — the  boy,  the  man,  the  dog — and,  with 
startled  eyes,  all  glanced  behind  them.  The  dog 
slunk  cowering  back  to  the  side  of  his  master,  who, 
with  a  glance  of  his  keen  hunter's  eye,  which  com 
prehended  every  object  around  them,  said,  address 
ing  his  dumb  companion : 

"What!  frightened,  my  brave  old  fellow?  Fright 
ened  for  the  first  time  in  your  life !  What  could  it 
have  been  ?  for  not  a  thing  do  I  see."  Yet  his  eyes, 
as  also  those  of  the  dog,  were  turned  directly  toward 
the  spot  where,  as  though  he  were  a  bush  and  his 
feet  roots,  the  boy  still  stood,  the  sunlight  shining 
full  upon  him.  Sprigg  felt  a  strange  thrill  come 
creeping  through  his  veins,  to  find  that,  though  he 
was  looked  at,  it  was  with  a  look  as  if  he  were  not 
perceived.  A  discovery,  which  caused  his  heart  to 


66  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

quake  with  a  terror  he  could  not  have  felt,  had  his 
father  actually  seen  him  and  called  to  him  in  a  loud, 
stern  voice,  to  know  what  he  did  there,  and  to  com 
mand  him  to  go  back  home. 

"No,  Pow-wow,"  again  said  the  hunter  to  his 
cowering  dog,  and  still  glancing  keenly  about  him, 
"not  a  thing  do  I  see  that  could  either  laugh  or  cry ; 
and  yet,  just  there  on  the  ground,  in  that  spot  of 
sunlight,  I  do  see  something  which  looks  for  all  the 
world  like  a  boy's  shadow."  And  lifting  his  eyes  to 
the  branches  of  the  trees  above  him,  Jervis  scanned 
them  narrowly  to  discover  the  particular  bough  to 
which  the  freak  might  be  ascribed.  Then  lowering 
his  eyes  against  to  the  shadow  on  the  ground,  with 
a  look  of  no  small  wonderment,  he  added : 

"It  seems,  Pow-wow,  that  our  ears  and  eyes  have 
a  plot  among  them  to  play  us  a  trick.  But,  come ! 
Let's  push  on  home.  The  day  grows  late,  and  we 
still  have  ten  long  miles  to  trudge ;  and  Sprigg,  you 
know,  must  have  a  good,  broad  edge  of  daylight  for 
looking  at  and  playing  with  the  young  black  fox 
we  found  in  our  trap  this  morning.  How  our  boy 
will  kick  up  his  heels  when  he  comes  out  to  meet  us, 
finding  we  have  brought  him  so  rare  a  pet !  But 
won't  he,  though?  So  up  with  your  tail,  my  brave 
old  fellow !  Up  with  your  tail  and  lead  on !" 

But  Pow-wow  did  not  up  with  his  tail ;  nor,  till 
now,  when  they  were  turning  to  go,  had  he  ceased  to 
glare  at  the  spot  where  his  young  master  was  stand- 


MET — AND  ONLY  HIS  SHADOW  TO  BE  SEEN.  57 

ing,  and  whence  had  come  that  low,  wild  laugh. 
Sprigg  watched  them  till  he  could  see  them  no 
longer.  Then  he  laughed,  as  he  had  done  at  home, 
to  pluck  up  the  spirit  he  had  lost;  laughed  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  him  imagine  that,  after  all,  it  could 
only  have  been  himself,  who  but  now-  had  laughed. 
But  that  his  father  and  Pow-wow  could  have  passed 
right  by  him  without  seeing  him,  or  discovering  his 
presence  in  any  way,  was  a  circumstance  certainly 
far  from  pleasant  to  think  of;  even  while  the  young 
runaway  felt  quite  assured  that  had  he  been  found 
there,  so  far  from  home,  he  should,  for  that  one 
time,  at  least,  have  been  severely  punished.  But 
there  it  was  coming  again !  That  sound,  so  like  a 
voice  shaping  in  words  the  thoughts  of  his  own 
heart. 

"Pluck  up,  Sprigg!  Pluck  up!  Ten  long  miles 
from  home,  and  the  old  hen  and  her  chickens  still 
with  their  bills  in  the  dough,  which  Elster  threw  out 
to  them  as  we  were  climbing  the  fence.  And  now, 
Sprigg,  don't  you  see  that  with  these  red  moccasins 
on  your  feet  you  are  as  swift  as  a  young  wild  goose, 
if  not  swifter?  Better  still,  you  are  no  more  to  be 
seen  in  them,  even  when  met  by  your  own  father, 
face  to  face — no  more  to  be  seen  than  the  thin  air 
you  stand  in !  Then,  what  can  catch  you  ?  What 
can  hurt  you  ?  Sprigg,  this  is  fine !  It  is  splendid ! 
Only  see  how  high  the  sun  is,  and  we  already  here 
at  the  old  hunting  camp,  exactly  half  way  between 


58  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

your  house  and  grandpap's.  You  heard  pap  say  to 
Pow-wow  that  you  must  have  a  good,  broad  edge  of 
daylight  for  the  young  black  fox,  but  you  shall  have 
.that  for  better  things  than  black  foxes.  You  shall, 
in  the  first  place,  go  by  young  Ben  Logan's  house, 
only  a  mile  or  so  out  of  your  way,  and  letting  him 
have  just  one  broad  stare  at  your  brave  moccasins — 
set  him  to  dying  of  envy  at  once.  This  done,  you 
will  have  time  enough,  and  to  spare,  for  going  by 
pretty  little  Bertha  Bryant's  house ;  although,  to  do 
this,  you  will  be  obliged  to  pass  by  grandpap's  first. 
But  I  would  do  it ;  and  I  would  walk  directly  through 
the  yard,  and  allowing  Bertha  just  one  flitting 
glimpse  of  your  beautiful  moccasins,  set  her,  there 
on  the  spot,  to  losing  her  senses  for  very  admiration 
and  love  of  them.  Then,  pluck  up  your  heart,  my 
boy !  Pluck  up  heart !  Oh,  what  a  brave  boy  is 
Sprigg !  Who  said  our  Sprigg  was  not  a  brave  boy  ? 
He-he-he !" 

Poor  Sprigg !  Why  did  you  not  cast  off  the  terri 
ble  moccasins  then  and  there?  And, all  in  your  naked 
feet, unmindful  of  tearing  stones  and  piercing  thorns, 
speed  you  after  your  father,  and  confessing  all,  im 
plore  him  to  beat  you,  ere  he  had  forgiven  you  ?  He 
might  have  done  so;  rebuked  you  sternly,  punished 
you  sorely,  but  far  easier  and  better  for  you  had 
been  all  that  than  the  fearful  delight  which  was  now 
charming  you  out  of  your  better  nature.  For,  had 
he  done  so,  would  he  not  have  taken  you,  with  your 


MET — AND  ONLY  HIS  SHADOW  TO  BE  SEEN.  59 

feet  all  torn  and  bleeding  as  they  were,  your  body 
all  bruised  with  the  stripes  of  his  chastising  rod — 
taken  you  up  in  his  strong,  loving  arms  and  borne 
you  home?  Home,  the  one  place  under  the  pitiful 
heavens  where  the  young  and  the  aged,  the  weak  and 
the  helpless,  the  untried  and  the  overtried,  should 
look  for  happiness,  peace  and  safety ! 


60  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Awakes  to  Find  that  He  Is  Lost. 

Again  the  poor,  vain  boy  was  speeding  him  on 
his  lone  and  perilous  way.  His  flight  was  as  swift 
as  the  wind,  yet  so  smooth  and  lightsome  that  he 
could  gaze  upon  his  moccasins  and  delight  his  eyes 
with  their  glitter  and  gleam,  as  completely  at  his 
ease  as  were  he  perched  on  his  three-legged  stool  at 
home.  Of  course,  then,  rambling  on  thus,  with 
neither  eye  nor  thought  but  for  the  red  allurements 
on  his  feet,  he  must,  ere  long,  lose  sight  of  the  road 
he  set  out  to  follow.  This  will  surprise  you  the  less 
when  told  that  from  the  time  he  had  put  them  on  at 
the  spring,  it  had  seemed  to  the  poor  boy's  fancy 
that  the  moccasins  knew,  as  well  as  himself,  whither 
they  were  bound,  and  that  they  would  take  him  there 
by  the  shortest  and  easiest  route,  did  he  but  yield 
himself  to  their  guidance.  The  road  to  be  followed, 
thus  lost  sight  of — what  wonder,  then,  if  the  place 
to  be  reached  should  at  last  be  lost  sight  of  also ! 

In  this  strange  plight,  the  young  wanderer  was 
pursuing  his  way,  when  he  was  aroused  from  his 
walking  dream  by  a  broad,  red  glare,  which  struck 
full  upon  his  downcast  eyes,  and  for  the  moment  left 
him  blind  as  night.  Soon,  however,  his  vision  re- 


AWAKES  TO  FIND  THAT  HE  IS  LOST.  61 

turned  to  him  strong  and  clear,  when  he  found  him 
self  on  the  top  of  a  lofty  hill,  just  where  a  gap  in  the 
forest  let  in  the  flood  of  sunlight;  and  this  it  was 
which  had  dazzled  him  into  transient  blindness,  as, 
too  suddenly,  he  had  entered  it  from  out  the  sombre 
shadows,  in  which  he  for  long  hours  had  been  wan 
dering. 

Now  had  you  seen  that  hill,  how  lofty  and  steep  it 
was,  and  marked  with  what  ease  and  swiftness  our 
hero  scaled  it,  you  would  have  said  at  once  that  the 
red  moccasins  had  more  to  do  with  the  feat  than 
Sprigg's  own  legs.  The  gap  in  the  forest  proved  to 
be  a  long,  lane-like  opening  through  the  trees,  which 
covered  only  the  sides  of  a  round-backed  ridge. 
Through  this  opening  Sprigg  had  an  unobstructed 
view  toward  some  distant  hills  in  the  West,  and 
could  see  that  the  sun  had  well  nigh  run  his  daily 
course.  The  ridge  ascended  gradually  till  it  reached 
it  greatest  elevation  where  the  boy  was  standing, 
and  here  ended  abruptly  in  a  promontory-like  hill, 
which  overlooked  a  wide  sea  of  waving  verdure  far 
below.  The  brow  of  the  hill  and  the  crest  of  the 
ridge  were  not  so  bare  of  trees  but  that,  here  and 
there,  a  lofty  oak  tree  might  be  seen;  but  the  face 
toward  the  East  was  much  too  steep  and  smooth  to 
offer  a  foothold  for  trees,  being  covered  instead  with 
a  dense  growth  of  low  bushes,  whose  twisted  twigs 
and  crisped  leaves  had,  from  a  distance,  more  the 
appearance  of  moss  than  of  verdure. 


62  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

Upon  waking  from  his  reverie,  and  turning  to 
look  behind  him,  Sprigg  had  found  himself  on  the 
very  brink  of  the  declivity.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  he  had  climbed  it  without  conscious  effort? 
Or,  indeed,  without  any  effort  at  all  of  his  own !  A 
bear  climbing,  paw  over  paw,  might  have  been  equal 
to  the  feat ;  but  even  a  bear,  were  he  minded  to  scale 
the  hill,  would  have  chosen  a  more  circuitous  and 
less  laborious  route.  There  was  not  the  sign  of  a 
path  made  by  man  or  beast  anywhere  to  be  seen, 
either  up  the  steep  or  along  the  ridge.  Even  of  his 
own  footsteps,  Sprigg  could  not  discern  a  single 
trace,  whether  in  crushed  leaf,  or  bruised  weed,  or 
print  of  his  moccasins  left  in  the  soft  soil.  The 
spot  was  utterly  strange  to  him ;  it  could  not  have 
been  more  so,  had  he  been  taken  and  set  down  on  a 
hill  in  the  land  of  Nod.  He  looked  around.  There 
were  hills  far,  far  beneath  the  one  on  which  he  stood. 
And  beneath  these  valleys  and  plains,  while  one  un 
broken  forest  spread  dark  and  sombre  over  all,  not 
a  token  of  man  or  savage  could  he  discover,  whether 
in  house,  or  field,  or  road,  or  column  of  smoke  curl 
ing  up  from  among  the  trees.  Nothing  but  woods, 
woods.  Woods !  Then,  like  a  sudden  awakening 
from  a  wild  dream,  it  flashed  upon  his  consciousness 
that  he  was  lost. 

"Where  am  I  ?"  cried  the  poor  boy.  "How  came 
I  here?" 

"He-he-he!" 


AWAKES  TO  FIND  THAT  HE  IS  LOST.  63 

Sprigg  jumped.  This  time,  the  sound  that 
seemed  so  like  a  laugh  was  too  completely  outside 
of  himself;  too  little  in  harmony  with  his  present 
thoughts  for  him  to  fancy  it  was  himself  that  laughed. 
First  on  this  side,  then  on  that.  Quite  near  at  hand 
he  looked — not  a  thing  of  life  could  he  see.  He 
looked  far  forth ;  a  herd  of  deer  was  grazing  in  a 
blue-grass  glade,  a  great  way  off  to  the  right ;  and  a 
great  way  off  to  the  left,  a  herd  of  buffalo,  browsing 
on  the  tender  shoots  of  a  cane-brake,  which  skirted 
the  banks  of  a  beautiful  river.  Behind  him,  toward 
the  setting  sun,  a  few  birds  of  prey  were  wheeling 
and  screaming  aloft  in  the  crimson  evening  sky. 
Saving  these,  not  a  thing  of  life  or  sound  was  there 
to  be  seen  in  all  the  wilds.  Lost !  Lost !  Lost ! 
To  find  himself  lost  is  the  only  discovery  your.wak- 
ing  dreamer  is  apt  to  make. 

Then  Sprigg  looked  down  and  scanned  the  red 
moccasins.  They  showed  not  a  grain  of  dust,  not  a 
speck  of  mire,  not  a  stain  of  grass,  or  weed,  or 
water,  although  he  had  walked  in  them — or,  if  you 
please,  they  had  walked  with  him — through  many  a 
mile  of  grassy  wood  and  reedy  swamp,  where  path 
was  none,  that  had  ever  been  trodden  by  foot  of  man. 
As  clean  and  bright  and  red  were  they  as  when  he 
had  drawn  them  on  in  the  shade  of  the  spring  trees 
there  at  home.  A  rather  singular  circumstance,  cer 
tainly;  and  only  to  be  explained  upon  the  ground 
that,  as  the  boy  had  submitted  himself  entirely  to 


64  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

their  guidance,  the  moccasins  had  daintily  picked 
out  the  road  which  suited  them  best,  and  such  roads, 
I  warrant  you,  as  common  shoes  were  not  at  all  in 
the  habit  of  traveling. 

Yes,  the  red  charms  had  beguiled  the  young  run 
away,  and,  without  any  motive  or  knowledge  of  his 
own,  had  brought  him  to  that  remote  and  solitary 
spot — howr,  or  to  what  end,  he  could  not  imagine. 
Of  one  thing  he  was  certain,  they  had  not  brought 
him  to  grandpap's  house,  as  they — for  so  it  had 
seemed  to  him — had  promised  they  would,  and  he 
had  been  so  foolish  as  to  believe  they  could.  At 
last,  but  when  it  was  too  late,  the  scales  were  begin 
ning  to  fall  from  his  eyes.  In  other  words,  the  red 
fog,  in  which  he  had  so  long  been  chased  by  the 
shadow  he  sought,  was  beginning  to  grow  a  little 
transparent,  so  that  he  could  view  his  case  in  a  some 
what  clearer  and  more  natural  light.  Apparent 
enough  was  it  now  that  the  red  moccasins  had  de 
ceived  him,  mocked  him,  laughed  at  him — in  short, 
made  a  fool  of  Sprigg  completely.  This  discovery 
brought  a  twinge  to  his  self-love,  far  more  severe 
than  any  pain  of  conscience  he  felt  at  the  thought  of 
the  foul  lie  he  had  told,  or  of  his  shabby  flight  from 
home ;  even  while  he  could  not  help  but  be  aware  of 
the  grief  and  shame  and  distressing  apprehensions 
he  must  thereby  be  causing  his  dear  father  and 
mother.  In  a  pet  of  wrath,  plump  down  he  sat,  this 
poor,  vain  boy ;  and,  jerking  the  moccasins  from  off 


AWAKES  TO  FIND  THAT  BE  IS  LOST.  65 

his  feet,  flung  them,  one  after  the  other,  over  the 
brink  of  the  steep,  as  far  as  his  sturdy,  young  arms 
could  send  them. 

"Curse  the  red  moccasins !"  cried  the  boy,  as  now 
in  his  bare  feet  he  stood,  the  hot  tears  jumping  sud 
denly  out  of  his  eyes.  "You  mocked  me,  fooled  me, 
lost  me !  Curse  you !  and  may  I  never " 

What  more  he  might  have  said  was  cut  short  by 
a  noise,  which,  while  he  was  yet  speaking,  had  caught 
his  ear.  A  noise  as  of  answering  voices,  mingled 
with  peals  of  wild  and  mocking  laughter,  heard  from 
several  directions  at  once,  and  ringing  out  clear  and 
shrill  upon  the  still  evening  air.  These  sounds  ab 
ruptly  ceased — the  more  abruptly  from  leaving  no 
echoes  behind  them,  where  echoes  were  wont  to  be 
left.  But  straight  were  they  succeeded  by  another 
sound,  caused,  apparently,  by  a  pair  of  light  feet, 
which,  with  a  hop,  step  and  jump,  by  way  of  a  start, 
were  now  coming  in  through  the  leaves  and  grass 
with  a  slow  and  measured  tread ;  and  so  near  at  hand 
that  he  who  walked  would  have  been  in  plain,  view 
just  there.  At  first  Sprigg  looked  too  high  to  see 
what  was  to  be  seen,  but  soon  lowering  his  gaze  he 
saw 

But  close  the  book  for  a  minute  and  guess.  Can 
not  ?  Try  it  again !  Not  yet  ?  No — nor  could  you, 
were  you  to  try  from  New  Year's  morn  to  New 
Year's  eve.  Wonderful,  as  you  may  think  it,  Sprigg 
saw  there  on  the  ground,  not  a  dozen  paces  from 


66  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

him,  his  cast-off  moccasins,  coming  slowly  toward 
him — first  the  right  foot,  then  the  left — without  so 
much  as  a  pair  of  knee  buckles  to  show  for  legs,  till 
they  had  set  their  toes  within  easy  speaking  distance, 
squarely  confronting  him.  The  boy  stood  stock 
still,  staring  before  him,  with  no  more  power  to 
move  from  the  spot  than  the  bushes  around  him. 
So  great  was  his  astonishment,  not  to  say  terror,  he 
felt  at  the  sight  of  this  fantastic  apparition. 


FINDS  THE  RED  MOCCASINS   FRIENDS  IN  NEED.          67 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Finds  the  Red  Moccasins  Whole-souled  Friends 
in  Need. 

"Are  we  not  beautiful  things  for  the  feet,  Sprigg? 
Oh,  but  we  are !  You  can't  deny  it !  On  with  us, 
then,  and  away  to  grandpap's  house !  Who  said  we 
couldn't  take  Sprigg  to  grandpap's  house?  Who 
said  we  couldn't  take  Sprigg  to  young  Ben  Logan's 
house  ?  Who  said  we  couldn't  take  Sprigg  to  pretty 
little  Bertha's  house?  If  Will-o'-the-Wisp  said  so, 
he  lied !  He  lied,  too,  if  he  said  our  Sprigg  was  not  a 
brave  boy !  He-he-he  !" 

The  boy  knew  well  enough,  for  he  heard  it  dis 
tinctly  enough  this  time,  that  the  voice  did  not  come 
from  his  own  heart,  nor  yet  from  the  moccasins,  but 
from  a  point  in  the  air,  about  as  high  up  from  the 
ground  as  his  own  mouth,  as  if  he  who  spoke  were 
standing  in  the  moccasins,  face  to  face  with  him, 
though  not  even  so  much  as  a  shade  of  a  shadow 
could  he  see. 

"An  elf !  An  elf  is  in  the  moccasins !"  cried  the 
boy,  and  tearing  his  feet  from  the  ground,  where  he 
had  stood  as  rooted,  fled  for  his  life,  the  moccasins 
following  right  at  his  heels  and  mockingly  keeping 
step  for  step  with  him,  till  down  in  a  swoon  he  sank 


68  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

at  the  foot  of  an  old  oak  tree.  How  long  he  lay  thus 
he  never  knew,  but  when  he  recovered  his  senses, 
there  before  him  were  the  red  moccasins,  side  by 
side,  the  toe  of  the  left  one  turned  slightly  outward, 
as  if  he  who  stood  in  them  were  taking  it  quite  at 
his  ease.  A  self-assured  air,  well  suiting  the  self- 
assured  voice,  which,  in  tones  quite  new  and  strange, 
pronounced  these  words,  with  an  emphatic  pause  at 
the  end  of  each  brief  sentence: 

"You  may  run  to  the  green  earth's  end,  my  boy! 
To  the  sea,  where  the  bright  sun  soon  shall  set !  To 
the  sea,  where  the  pale  moon  soon  shall  rise !  But, 
step  for  step,  come  we  at  your  heels,  though  borne 
you  be  on  the  wings  of  the  wind !" 

The  poor  boy  cowered  down  at  the  foot  of  the 
old  oak,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  coonskin  cap, 
remained  for  a  long  time  mum  and  motionless. 
With  the  red  moccasins,  which,  in  a  pet  of  disap 
pointment  and  wounded  self-love,  he  had  flung  from 
him,  had  departed  the  marvelous  stoutness  of  heart 
and  strength  of  limb  he  had  felt  while  his  feet  were 
in  them.  And  now,  all  weak  and  spiritless,  was  he 
left  to  shift  for  himself,  with  such  resources  only  as 
a  bare-footed  boy,  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  wilder 
ness,  might  be  supposed  to  have  at  his  command. 
Sitting  thus,  he  began  gradually  taking  in  some  idea 
of  the  sad  condition  to  which  he  had  brought  him 
self  by  his  vanity  and  disobedience,  though  his  re 
morse  for  the  wrong  of- the  thing,  and  for  the  sorrow 


FINDS  THE  RED  MOCCASINS  FRIENDS  IN  NEED.         69 

it  must  occasion  the  dear  ones  at  home,  was  by  no 
means  as  lively  and  decided  as  his  regret  for  the  un 
pleasant  consequences  thereof  to  his  own  particular 
self.  There  he  was — he  knew  not  how  far  away 
from  home,  sweet  home ! — all  alone  in  that  wild  and 
solitary  spot,  and  the  darksome,  dismal,  terrible 
night  soon  to  come  creeping,  creeping  over  his 
houseless  head.  There  he  was,  and  no  dear  mam — 
so  loving,  so  cheerful — to  give  him  his  bowl  of  bread 
and  milk !  No  dear  pap — so  kind,  so  merry — to  tell 
him  wild  stories  of  Indians  and  Will-o'-the-Wisp  and 
Nick  of  the  Woods !  Yes,  and  no  good,  old  Pow 
wow,  brave  old  Pow-wow,  to  come  trotting  up  to 
him,  in  the  dear  old  wag-tail  way,  to  thrust  his 
shaggy  head  into  his  little  master's  hand  for  a  pat  or 
a  hug!  It  was  too  much  for  the  poor,  young  run 
away's  heart,  and  out  came  a  passionate  burst  of 
tender  home-sick  feeling,  though  he  did  it  as  well  as 
he  could,  smothering  it  up  in  his  coonskin  cap.  But 
soon  again,  bethinking  him  how  he  had  been  mocked 
and  fooled  by  the  imp  in  the  moccasins,  he  sum 
moned  back  the  pride  of  his  young  heart  and  the 
strength  of  his  young  will,  and  checked  his  tears,  lest 
his  weakness  of  feeling,  like  his  vanity,  should  be 
made  the  provocation  of  derision.  In  this  condition 
he  sat  for  many  moments,  quite  motionless,  saving 
when  the  sobs,  which  needs  must  follow  his  tears, 
came  heaving  up  from  his  breast  and  shook  his 
crouching  little  figure.  Yet  he  did  but  sulk  as  one 


70  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

who,  while  glum  with  all  the  world  besides,  is  far 
from  being  at  peace  with  his  own  heart.  His  tear- 
wet  face  he  still  kept  buried  in  his  cap,  not  daring  to 
remove  it  from  his  eyes,  lest  they  should  encounter 
those  of  the  thing  who  stood  in  the  moccasins,  whom 
he  felt  to  be  watching  him  all  this  time  from  up  there 
in  the  clear,  unshadowed  air.  At  the  end  of  less 
than  half  an  hour  he  was  roused  from  his  unquiet 
thoughts  by  the  sound  of  a  slow,  heavy  tramp,  at  no 
great  distance  off,  followed  immediately  by  a  slight 
stir  in  the  leaves  and  grass  near-by,  which  caused 
him  to  start ;  and,  before  he  was  aware,  he  had 
dropped  the  cap  from  over  his  eyes.  The  mocca 
sins  had  turned  quite  'round,  with  their  toes  another 
way,  as  if  the  ear  of  him  who  stood  in  them  had  been 
caught  by  the  same  sound,  and  he  would  inform  him 
self  of  the  cause.  Sprigg  looked  in  the  direction 
thus  indicated,  when  an  object  met  his  gaze,  which 
caused  his  eyes  to  grow  big  and  round,  then  stand 
fixed  in  their  sockets. 

What  the  boy  and  the  thing  in  the  moccasins  saw 
there  was  a  bison  bull — and  a  huge  beast  he 
was.  That  bull  of  the  wilderness,  and  of  as  wild  and 
savage  an  aspect,  too,  as  you  would  care  to  behold, 
even  within  the  secure  enclosure  of  a  menagerie. 
His  hair  was  long  and  curled,  and  of  dun  or  tawny 
color.  A  hump  he  had  on  his  shoulders,  which  gave 
his  neck  a  downward  slope  to  the  head,  and  his  back 
a  downward  slope  to  the  tail — his  tail,  but  a  short 


FINDS  THE  BED  MOCCASINS  FRIENDS  IN  NEED.         71 

brush  of  a  thing,  scarcely  reaching  to  his  hocks. 
Horns,  he  had,  too — black  horns,  long  and  strong, 
and  tapering  to  a  sharper  point  than  is  the  case  with 
horned  cattle,  generally  speaking.  But  the  feature 
to  which  the  monster  chiefly  owed  his  singular  wild- 
ness  of  appearance  was  his  mane,  which,  in  shaggy 
luxuriance,  flowed  from  neck,  shoulders  and  breast, 
covering  the  legs  to  the  knees,  and  veiling  the  face 
almost  to  the  very  nose. 

Now,  had  he  seen  all  this  in  the  yard  at  home, 
himself  stationed  on  the  porch,  with  pap  on  one  side, 
Black  Bess  in  hand,  ready  to  shoot;  Pow-wow  on 
the  other,  ready  to  spring  at  the  first  intimation  of 
hostile  design  on  the  part  of  'his  bullship,  our  hero 
would  have  clapped  his  hands  and  pronounced  it  a 
grander  sight  than  any  the  old  show  bill  could  boast, 
always  excepting,  of  course,  the  Indian  boy  and 
.Shetland  pony.  But  there,  in  that  desolate  spot, 
with  not  a  living  soul  a-near,  unless,  indeed,  the 
thing  in  moccasins  might  have  a  soul,  a  bison  bull 
were  hardly  the  object  to  awaken  pleasant  wonder 
ment  and  lively  admiration  in  the  mind  of  a  lost  boy, 
who,  against  a  pair  of  long,  sharp  horns,  could  op 
pose  no  weapon  but  a  jack-knife,  no  shield  but  a 
coonskin  cap. 

When  the  boy  first  caught  sight  of  him,  the  bull 
was  already  within  easy  viewing  distance,  and  was 
soon  so  near  that,  in  his  turn,  he  could  not  fail  to 
catch  sight  of  the  boy,  where  he  still  sat  crouched 


72  THE  KED  MOCCASINS. 

at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  This  was  plainly  to  be  seen, 
by  the  way  the  monster  stopped  short,  turned  square 
'round,  and  lowered  his  huge,  black  front  to  stare  at 
the  little  stranger.  Bright  eyes,  wild  eyes,  Sprigg 
now  saw  a  bison's  eyes  to  be. 

The  fringe  of  mane,  which  veiled  the  face,  ob 
structing  his  vision,  caused  the  animal,  when  he 
stared  at  you,  to  roll  his  eyeballs  downward  till  their 
colored  circles  were  half  hid  by  their  lower  lids,  thus 
leaving  the  upper  whites  exposed  to  view  in  the  form 
of  a  new  moon,  with  the  points  downward.  To  be 
squinted  at  with  the  side  whites  of  the  eyes,  to  a 
naughty  boy  like  Sprigg  is  anything  else  but  pleas 
ant  ;  but  to  be  stared  at  with  the  upper  whites  of  the 
eyes,  as  the  bison  bull  was  now  staring  at  Sprigg, 
were  enough  to  make  you  feel  as  if  you  had  a  wide 
awake  nightmare  in  broad  daylight. 

Evidently  his  bullship  was  greatly  surprised  to 
find  so  small  a  boy,  at  so  late  an  hour,  in  that  out-of- 
the-way  place,  without  even  so  much  as  a  dog  and 
gun  to  show  for  the  business  which  had  brought  him 
thither.  Then,  as  if  feeling  that  he  had  a  right  to 
investigate  the  matter,  the  bison,  with  short,  slow, 
soft  steps,  began  shortening  the  distance  between 
himself  and  the  object  of  his  curiosity.  Closer  and 
closer  he  came,  still  with  his  huge,  black  front  low 
ered,  and  his  crescent-like  eyes  gleaming  wildly  out 
from  the  depths  of  his  overshadowing  mane,  with  a 
look  as  if  he  were  saying  within  himself:  "And 


FINDS  THE  RED  MOCCASINS  FRIENDS  IN  NEED.         73 

what  wee  thing  is  this,  up  here  in  my  bluegrass  pas 
ture?" 

Sprigg  could  not  draw  his  eyes  from  those  of  the 
beast ;  nor  had  he  the  power  to  rise  and  flee  from  the 
spot,  though  it  was  well  that  he  had  not  the  power 
to  run,  as  in  that  event  the  bull  might  have  been 
tempted  to  give  him  chase,  as  things  with  horns  are 
apt  to  do  when  we  are  trying  our  best  to  get  out  of 
their  way.  Overtaking  him,  the  bull  would  have 
run  his  long,  sharp  horns  directly  under  the  young 
fugitive's  arms,  and,  giving  him  a  toss  high  up  in  the 
air,  let  him  drop  down  a-straddle  of  his  back,  just 
behind  the  hump,  for  a  pleasant  evening  ride.  Un 
derstand  me,  now — I  am  not  positive  in  saying  that 
this  is  precisely  what  the  bison  would  have  done  had 
our  hero  taken  to  his  heels.  Though  the  thing  may 
have  happened  once  or  twice  since  time  began,  I 
have  never  heard  of  a  runaway  boy  being  chased  by 
a  bison  bull ;  and,  therefore,  can  only  guess  how  such 
a  beast  would  deport  himself  under  the  circum 
stances.  But  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  he  would 
hardly  do  anything  more  dreadful  than  play  the  sav 
age  antic  just  suggested;  because,  a  moment's  re 
flection  would  show  him  that  to  use  his  horns  to  a 
greater  length,  were  to  frighten  the  young  runaway 
out  of  his  wits,  and  thereby  incapacitate  him  from 
being  made  to  see  and  feel  the  error  of  his  way. 
Though,  I  must  confess  that,  for  my  own  part,  I 
should  not  be  willing  to  trust  the  savage  fellow  a 
single  horn's  length  until  I  had  subjected  him  to  a 


74  THE  RED   MOCCASINS. 

certain  old-fashioned  test — I  would  first  take  care  to 
see  how  far  I  could  fling  the  bull  by  the  tail,  and 
make  the  result  the  measure  of  my  confidence  in  his 
good  intentions. 

Step  by  step,  still  came  the  monster  slowly  on, 
and  now  was  come  so  near  that  the  boy  could  feel 
his  moist  breath  warming  the  air  around  him.  An 
other  step,  and  their  noses  had  been  all  but  within 
touching  distance  of  each  other.  But  just  at  that 
moment — just  as  the  cry  of  pap  !  pap !  rang  affright- 
edly  out  on  the  still  evening  air — the  red  moccasins, 
which,  up  to  this  time,  had  remained  perfectly  quiet, 
seemed  to  be  seized  all  on  a  sudden  with  an  animated 
interest  in  what  was  passing.  With  a  hop,  step  and 
jump,  they  were,  in  a  twinkling,  right  at  the  bull's 
nose  and  pouring  upon  it  a  shower  of  kicks,  so  rapid 
and  stunning  that  the  beast,  huge  and  powerf-'l  as  he 
was,  staggered  backward  several  paces,  with  a  look 
of  utter  bewilderment.  Nor  did  the  pertinacious 
little  stunners  let  him  off  till  they  had  forced  him 
back  to  the  very  brink  of  the  steep ;  when,  with  a 
roar  of  fright  and  pain  which  shook  the  lonely  wilds. 
the  monster  wheeled  about,  and  making  a  blind  leap, 
vanished  over  the  precipice.  This  done,  the  red 
moccasins  quietly  retraced  their  steps,  and,  with  the 
same  air  of  easy  self-assurance,  adjusted  themselves 
before  the  boy,  who,  not  so  fearful  now  as  sullen, 
buried  his  face  once  more  in  his  coonskin  cap;  and 
never  a  word  of  thanks  to  them,  nor  to  any  one  else, 
that  Sprigg  was  in  the  land  of  the  living. 


STILL  AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  OLD  OAK  TREE.  75 

CHAPTER  X. 
Still  at  the  Foot  of  the  Old  Oak  Tree* 

The  roar  of  the  bison  bull  was  hardly  out  of  his 
ears,  when  the  boy  heard  another  slight  rustling  in 
the  leaves  and  grass  near-by,  and  peeping  out  from 
behind  his  cap,  he  saw  that  the  moccasins  had  again 
shifted  their  position.  Looking  in  the  direction  to 
ward  which  their  toes  were  turned,  he  saw  an  ob 
ject  more  to  be  dreaded,  by  far,  than  a  bison  bull. 

A  wild-cat  it  was,  already  too  near  at  hand,  creep 
ing  up  in  that  soft,  sly  way  peculiar  to  animals  of  the 
cat  family  whenever  they  have  a  victim  in  view.  A 
wild-cat — fat;  sleek  sides,  all  ribbed  with  stripes  of 
black  and  white;  white  teeth,  very  long  and  sharp; 
black  claws,  longer  and  sharper  still ;  ringed  tail, 
very  long  and  very  lithe,  waving  softly  all  the  time 
from  side  to  side,  with  a  sort  of  quivering  eagerness 
in  its  motion,  as  if  the  owner  were  trying  his  best 
to  hold  it  still,  and  for  the  life  of  him  could  not  do  so. 

By  this  time,  the  handsome  savage  had  slipped 
himself  within  easy  springing  distance  of  his  in 
tended  quarry.  Here  he  paused,  and  fixing  his  wild, 
sly  eyes  on  those  of  the  boy,  began  purring 
in  a  soft  way,  and  licking  his  red  chops 
with  his  long,  red  tongue  in  a  soft  way — 


Ttt  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

that  uncontrollable  tail  still  waving  from  side 
to  side  in  the  same  soft  way — all  in  the  softest,  sly 
est  way  that  you  could  well  imagine,  as  if  he  were 
saying  within  himself:  "But  won't  a  v/ild-cat  pap 
and  a  wild-cat  mam  and  their  wild-cat  kittens  feast 
and  be  merry  to-night?" 

All  this  took  the  boy  but  three  winks  of  the  eye 
to  observe;  though,  in  the  time,  he  had  not  winked 
once,  so  fascinated  was  he  by  the  gaze  of  those  wild, 
sly  eyes,  which  shone  like  balls  of  green  fire,  rather 
than  eyes.  Now  was  Wild  Tom  of  the  Woods  mak 
ing  his  squat  for  the  long  spring,  and  the  poor  little 
runaway  screaming  again  to  pap  for  help.  But  just 
then,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  with  a  swiftness  that 
left  a  red  streak  in  the  air,  the  red  moccasins  darted 
directly  at  the  wild-cat's  face,  and  kicking  the  green 
fire  out  of  his  eyes,  spoiled  their  charming  expres 
sion  in  a  twinkle.  With  a  scream  of  amazement, 
fright  and  pain,  which  struck  on  the  ear  like  the 
shriek  of  a  terrified  woman,  the  nimble  creature  spun 
lithely  'round,  and,  like  the  bull,  reckless  of  all  save 
the  unseen  foe  behind  him,  made  a  blind  leap  sheer 
over  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  and  in  a  moment 
sank  out  of  sight. 

This  happily  accomplished,  the  moccasins,  pre 
cisely  as  they  had  done  before,  returned  to  their 
post ;  and  the  boy,  precisely  as  he  had  done  before, 
hid  his  face  in  his  coonskin  cap.  Nor  even  yet  one 
word  of  thanks  for  timely  rescue  from  untimely  end. 


STILL.  AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  OLD  OAK  TREE.  77 

Now,  had  you  been  in  our  hero's  place,  you  would 
have  up  and  made  friends  with  the  moccasins,  there 
on  the  spot,  for  so  kindly  stepping  in  betwixt  you 
and  peril — shaken  hands  with  them  as  whole-souled 
fellows,  with  whom  it  was  to  a  bare-footed  boy's  be 
hoof  to  stand  on  a  good  footing.  But  Sprigg  was 
the  worst  spoiled  boy  in  the  world;  which,  unless  I 
am  mightily  mistaken,  you  are  not ;  and  it  still  rang 
in  his  foggy  young  noddle  that  it  was  all  the  red 
moccasins'  fault  that  he  had  been  brought  to  straits 
so  'sad  and  desperate.  Therefore,  he  owed  them  no 
thanks  whatever  for  helping  him  out,  let  them  kick 
as  they  might.  Such  being  the  case,  Sprigg  would 
not  have  made  friends  with  the  moccasins,  had  it 
been  to  save  their  soles.  . 

So,  there  sat  the  boy,  with  his  face  in  his  coon- 
skin  cap ;  and  there  stood  the  thing,  with  its  feet  in 
the  moccasins;  and  there  flung  the  sun  his  last  red 
beams,  then  went  his  way,  unrecking  who  wept  to 
see  him  go. 

Now,  shade  by  shade,  with  foot  as  stealthy  and 
soft  as  the  furred  paw  of  the  gray  cat,  came  the  gray 
twilight,  creeping,  creeping  on.  The  hour,  when  the 
gray  owl,  with  a  whoop,  from  his  hole  in  the  tree; 
and  the  gray  wolf,  with  a  howl,  from  his  cleft  in  the 
rock,  come  forth  in  quest  of  their  prey.  And  woe 
to  the  fawn !  'And  woe  to  the  birdling !  strayed  from 
home  for  the  first  time,  should  the  shadows  of  night, 
that  tempt  the  famished  foe  abroad,  find  him  still 
6 


78  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

far  from  the  old  one's  side;  for  chased  shall  he  be, 
and  caught  up  by  the  claws,  or  dragged  down  by  the 
fangs  of  the  dread  destroyer! 

And  Sprigg — poor  child!  How  weak  and  help 
less  to  be  in  a  spot  so  lonely  and  dreary  and  peril 
ous,  and  so  far  away  from  the  dear  old  hearts  of 
home !  Hearts,  by  this  time,  so  overburdened  with 
grief  and  distressing  apprehensions — all  for  him! 
How  weary,  too,  and  faint  he  felt !  And  how  he 
longed  to  lay  him  down  to  sleep  and  be  at  rest !  But 
this,  he  dared  not,  lest  he  should  awake  but  to  find 
long,  sharp  horns  at  his  breast,  or  long,  sharp  teeth 
at  his  throat.  Or,  if  not  this,  he  might,  while  yet 
asleep,  be  borne  away  to  some  spot,  still  more  dis 
tant  and  lonely,' by  the  strange  being,  who  stood  just 
there  in  the  moccasins,  the  gaze  of  whose  unseen 
eyes  he  now  felt  in  his  inmost  heart. 

At  last,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  keep  awake, 
the  weary  child  was  dropping  off  to  sleep,  when  his 
ear,  as  yet  but  half  closed,  was  caught  by  a  dog-trot 
sort  of  a  noise  in  the  leaves  quite  near  at  hand. 
Rousing  with  a  start  and  looking  out,  the  boy  saw 
there  a  wolf — gray,  grim  and  gaunt,  with  eyes  that 
glared  upon  him  through  the  dusky  shades,  like  balls 
of  red  fire,  rather  than  eyes.  Sprigg  was  on  the 
point  of  screaming  again  to  pap  for  help,  when  he 
bethought  him  of  the  moccasins,  and  glancing  down 
and  perceiving  that  they  had  turned  their  toes  to 
ward  the  monster,  he  choked  himself  into  silence. 


STILL  AT  THE  FOOT  OP  THE  OLD  OAK  TREE.     79 

Though  he  still  feared  them,  he  had,  by  this  time, 
learned  to  trust  the  red  moccasins,  and  now  felt  as 
sured  that  they  would  defend  him  against  the  wolf 
as  they  had  done  against  the  bull  and  the  cat.  Nor 
Was  he  mistaken.  Just  as  Wild  Tray  of  the  Woods 
would  have  made  his  spring  and  sprang  on  the  boy, 
the  moccasins  made  their  spring  and  sprang  on  the 
wolf,  driving  directly  at  his  ugly  eyes,  with  a  kick 
into  each,  which  brought  the  red  fire  flashing  out 
into  the  darkness.  Back,  with  a  terrified  howl,  cow 
ered  the  monster,  and  spinning  swiftly  'round,  van 
ished  like  the  bison  and  the  wild-cat,  with  a  blind 
leap  over  the  precipice.  But  this  time,  when  the 
moccasins  came  back,  a  voice  came  with  them ;  a 
new  voice,  whose  tones,  gentle  and  kind,  reminded 
the  poor  boy  of  his  mother's,  and  thus  the  new  voice 
spoke : 

"Now  our  Sprigg  must  feel  assured  he  may  trust 
us.  Then  sleep,  poor  boy !  You  are  weary,  faint  and 
sick  at  heart,  and  have  but  too  much  need  of  rest !  A 
friend  is  here,  who  will  watch  over  you  and  keep  you 
safe  from  harm.  Then,  sleep,  poor  child,  sleep !" 
And  with  these  words  the  forlorn  little  castaway  felt 
a  tiny  hand  laid  upon  his  head,  and  with  a  touch  so 
gentle  that  a  gush  of  soft,  warm,  grateful  tears  came 
welling  up  from  his  overburdened  heart ;  and 
straightway  a  sense  of  rest  and  slumber  stole  over 
his  spirit,  and  he  sank  into  a  deep  sleep.  Just  then 
the  moon  wheeled  up  from  behind  the  forest-bound 


80  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

East,  and  shot  her  first  silver  arrows,  long  and  level, 
against  the  shaggy  breast  of  the  giant  hill.  Round- 
faced,  she  was,  and  as  bright  as  moon  could  well  be, 
not  to  make  day  of  night ;  for,  be  it  borne  in"  mind, 
that  it  was  still  the  first  of  June,  though  gone  the 
joyous  sun,  who  had  been  blazing  the  thing  to  the 
world  the  livelong  day. 

The  boy  had  slept  but  an  hour  or  so,  when  he 
was  aroused  by  a  voice,  whose  tones  seemed  those 
of  his  father's,  which  said : 

"Up,  Sprigg!  Up!  They  come!"  as  if  he  who 
spoke  were  in  haste.  With  a  wild  start  the  boy 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  the  first  thing  he  knew  he  was 
standing  bolt  upright,  looking  straight  down  the 
vista,  which  ran  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  as  if  his 
head  had  been  turned  by  him  that  had  spoken  on 
purpose  that  way,  that  he  might  see  what  there  he 
saw.  And  had  Sprigg  seen  the  bison,  the  wild-cat, 
the  wolf,  all  there  in  a  row,  the  sight  could  hardly 
have  daunted  him  more  than  did  that  of  the  object 
which  now  met  his  eyes.  A  sight,  it  was,  which 
brought  to  his  memory  all  that  his  mother  had  told 
him  concerning  that  terrible  thing  of  the  wilderness 
— the  Indian  mystery — Jibbenainesy,  called  by  the 
white  men,  Nick  of  the  Woods. 

Yes,  fancy  it  out  as  you  please — it  was  a  bear, 
with  black  hair,  so  shaggy  and  long  that  his  legs 
could  scarcely  be  seen,  and  his  tail  not  at  all. 

Sprigg's  first  thought,  after  the  hundred  thoughts 


STILL  AT  THE  FOOT?  Off  THE  OLD  OAK  TREE.          81 

which  the  object  before  him  had  awakened,  was  to 
reassure  himself  that  the  moccasins  still  stood  guard. 
He  looked!  Dire  to  relate,  the  red  moccasins  had 
deserted  their  post — abandoned  their  trust !  Nothing 
— no  one  left  him  to  look  to  now  for  help !  Down  "Re 
crouched  again  at  the  foot  of  the  old  oak  tree,  hiding 
himself  in  its  deepest  shadow,  in  the  forlorn  hope 
that  the  monster  might  pass  by  without  discovering 
his  presence.  On  came  the  huge  bulk  of  shaggy 
blackness — now  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree,  now  in  the 
belt  of  moonlight,  slowly,  steadily,  trudged  he  along 
— his  head  bent  down  with  the  air  of  one  who,  while 
he  walked,  is  absorbed  in  profound  thought.  "When 
his  deliberate  pace  had  brought  the  bear  to  the  third 
or  fourth  belt  of  light,  Sprigg  spied  an  object,  which, 
for  the  moment,  in  spite  of  the  terror  he  felt,  caused 
his  young  heart  to  burn  with  indignation,  remind 
ing  him,  as  it  did,  how  he  had  been  made  a  fool  of, 
by  something,  or  somebody,  he  had  not  fairly  de 
cided  yet  what  or  who.  But  the  moment  after,  re 
membering  the  voice,  which,  so  like  his  mother's, 
had  lulled  him  to  sleep  with  words  of  rest  and  peace 
— this  feeling  gave  place  to  one  of  joy  and  trusting 
reassurance. 

Side  by  side  with  the  bear,  and  keeping  exact 
step  with,  his  sloomy  pace,  Sprigg  saw  his  cast-off 
moccasins,  coming  quietly  on,  as  if  with  the  sole 
intent  of  guiding  the  monster  directly  up  to  the  tree, 
in  whose  dark  shadow  he  had  trusted  to  find  a  hiding 


82  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

place.  Thus  leading,  thus  led,  composedly  on  they 
came  together,  step  for  step — now  the  three  right 
feet,  now  the  three  left  feet — each  as  pat  to  the 
other's  movement  as  were  they  walking  arm  in  arm. 
The  next  broad  patch  of  moonlight  gained,  brought 
them  square  abreast  with  the  boy;  and  here,  within 
easy  speaking  distance,  they  came  to  a  dead  halt — 
the  red  moccasins  and  the  bear. 


AN  AGREEABLE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  83 

CHAPTER  XL 

An  Agreeable  Disappointment* 

"  Sing  a  song  of  moccasins, 

Pockets  full  of  rye. 
Four  and  twenty  black  bears. 
Sniff!     I  smell  a  lie  !  " 

So  said  the  bear,  in  a  nursery,  sing-song  tone  of 
voice;  then  fetching  a  quick  sniff  at  the  air,  began 
peering  about  him — first  this  way,  then  that  way, 
then  another  way— every  way,  indeed,  but  straight 
at  Sprigg. 

"  First  behead  the  headsman, 
Then  we'll  fry  the  friar; 
Next  we'll  hang  the  hangman. 
Snuff!    I  smell  a  liar!" 

Again  said  the  bear,  still  jingling  out  his  words, 
and  still  stiffly  sniffing  the  air.  He  now  looked  down 
at  the  earth,  then  up  at  the  moon,  then  straight  at 
Sprigg. 

"Holloa !"  he  cried,  abruptly  modulating  his  voice 
into  quite  a  different  key,  "who  sits  here,  at  this  late 
,  hour,  on  Manitou  hill,  hiding  himself  from  my  moon 
shines?"  And  with  these  pleasant  preliminaries  to 
their  better  acquaintances,  his  bearship  seated  him 
self  upon  his  stump  of  a  tail,  with  his  amiable  muz- 


84  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

zle  directly  confronting  the  boy,  as  though  he  were 
in  for  a  good,  long  talk  and  meant  to  be  at  his  ease 
while  so  engaged.  He  had  the  look  of  one  who  was 
conscious  of  being  the  possessor  of  immense  wis 
dom,  and  was  accustomed  to  seeing  whatever  he 
might  choose  to  let  drop  from  his  sagacious  jaw 
waited  for,  snatched  at  and  borne  away  as  precious 
bits  to  be  treasured  up  for  lifelong  use. 

The  moccasins  daintily  adjusted  themselves  be 
side  the  bear,  the  toe  of  the  left  foot  resting  on  the 
ground,  with  the  heel  turned  upward,  as  if  the  wearer 
were  standing  with  his  legs  crossed,  and  with  the 
left  arm  thrown  carelessly  over  the  bear's  shoulders. 
The  attitude  was,  doubtless,  an  easy  and  graceful 
one ;  too  fine,  indeed,  to  be  all  lost  in  the  air.  But 
it  pleased  Sprigg  exceedingly  just  as  it  was.  It 
made  him  feel  that  the  bear  could  not  be  such  a  ter 
rible  fellow  after  all,  if  the  moccasins  could  make 
themselves  so  completely  at  home  in  his  presence. 

"Who,  I  say?"  repeated  the  bear.  "Who  sits 
here  at  this  late  hour  on  Manitou  hill,  hiding  himself 
from  my  moonshine?  What's  wrong  about  my 
moonshine?" 

But  Sprigg  said  never  a  word,  moved  never  a 
limb,  winked  never  an  eye. 

"I  say,  what's  wrong  about  my  moonshine?  If 
you  have  a  tongue,  speak !" 

Poor  Sprigg  had  a  tongue,  but  it  stuck  fast  to 
the  roof  of  his  mouth,  and  when  he  world  have  told 
the  bear  as  much,  it  stuck  still  faster. 


AN  AGREEABLE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  85 

"Speak,  I  tell  you!  None  of  your  mums  with 
me!"  the  bear's  voice  terribly  gruff  by  this  time. 
"If  you  don't  " 

"Sir!"  gasped  out  Sprigg  at  last. 

"Sir!"  mockingly  echoed  the  bear.  "Sir!  and  is 
'Sir'  all  a  boy  has  to  say  for  himself,  who  dodged  my 
moonshine?  I  knew  that  much  before.  Now,  sir, 
to  the  purpose,  and  tell  me  something  I  don't  know." 

"Yes,  sir,"  which  was  as  near  to  the  purpose  as 
anything  the  boy  could  think  of  just  then.  His 
grim  questioner  looked  at  him  with  so  hard  a  coun 
tenance  that  it  kept  his  scared  wits  from  performing 
the  very  office  demanded  of  them. 

"Now,  there  is  some  sense  in  that,"  remarked  the 
bear,  with  a  grim  smile  and  with  a  nod  of  the  head 
to  the  right,  as  if  the  comment  was  intended  for  his 
ear,  who  stood  there;  and  Sprigg  could  see  that  the 
moccasins  shook,  as  if  the  wearer  were  laughing 
heartily. 

/'Having  discovered  that  he  has  a  tongue,"  con 
tinued  the  bear,  "we  will  now  take  a  fresh  start  and 
find  out,  if  we  can,  what  stuff  the  cub  is  made  of. 
Now,  sir,  what's  your  name  ?" 

"Sprigg,"  replied  the  boy,  glad  to  have  an  oppor 
tunity,  at  last,  of  saying  something  to  the  purpose. 

"Is  that  an  English  name,  or  Indian  name?"  in 
quired  the  bear. 

"It  is  my  name,  sir ;  and  you  can  see  that  I  am 
not  an  Indian,  by  my  coonskin  cap." 


86  fTHE  fcED  MOCCASINS. 


"Bless  a  body!"  exclaimed  the  bear,  "but  that 
was  well  turned.  Now,  sir,  as  you  are  getting  a  lit 
tle  glib,  will  you  go  still  further  and  tell  us  how  old 
you  are?" 

"Twelve  years  old,  sir,  next  June-day  come  a 
year,"  replied  the  boy,  in  the  peculiar  sing-song  way 
in  which  old-fashioned  children  were  wont  to  answer 
the  question. 

"Why,  that's  to-day,  you  young  gump !"  cried  the 
bear,  "and  your  answer  still  leaves  me  in  the  fog  as 
to  your  age — whether  it's  eleven  or  twelve.' 

"I  was  eleven  years  old  the  last  time,  and  I  was 
to  be  twelve  years  old  the  next  time,  whenever  that 
might  be." 

"Better  and  better,"  quoth  the  bear,  with  an  ap 
proving  nod,  "and  now  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he 
were  prepared  to  tell  us  whose  son  he  is.  Can  you 
tell  us  that?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,  very  easily!" 

"Then  why  don't  you,  and  prove  it?" 

"My  pap's  name  is  Jervis  Whitney,  and  my  mam's 
name  is  Elster  Whitney;"  and  the  poor  little  run 
away  choked  as  he  pronounced  the  dear  names. 

Whereupon,  as  if  musing  on  what  he  had  just 
heard,  the  bear  made  that  peculiar  sound,  which,  ut 
tered  through  the  nose,  with  the  lips  closed,  amounts 
to  a  doubtful,  undecided  yes:  "Oo-hooh" — then  a 
pause — "he  says  his  pap's  name  is  Jervis  Whitney." 

"Yes,   sir,   and   my   grandpap's   name   is   Jervis 


AN  AGREEABLE  VIS  APPOINTMENT.  87 

Whitney,  too,"  added  Sprigg,  thinking  that  the  fuller 
he  gave  his  pedigree,  the  more  satisfactory  might 
prove  his  information,  "and  I  have  an  uncle  who 
goes  by  the  name  of  Benjamin  Whitney,  who  was 
shot  through  the  knees  at  the  battle  of  Brandywine, 
so  that  he  now  goes  about  on  wooden  legs." 

"And  the  better  husband  for  his  pegs,  too,  I  war 
rant  you,"  quoth  the  bear,  "for  he  will  stick  by  his 
wife  so  long  as  she  will  stick  to  him." 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  have  another  uncle,  who  goes  by 
the  name  of " 

"Ooh-hooh,"  said  the  bear,  relapsing  into  his 
musing  mood,  "he  has  another  uncle.  But,  Jervis 
Whitney — now,  where  did  I  ever  hear  that  name? 
It  sounds  as  familiar  to  my  ear  as  the  hum  of  a  bee. 
Ooh-hooh — Jervis  Whitney.  Yes,  yes !  Now  I  have 
it !  I  know  the  man ;  know  him  like  a  book !  It's 
the  white  hunter,  whom  Will-o'-the-Wisp  and  I  fell 
in  with  one  moonshiny  night  last  week ;  and  a  very 
pleasant  sort  of  a  fellow  we  found  him,  too.  Yes, 
and  I  gave  him  a  pair  of  red  moccasins  for  his  little 
son.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  his  son's  name  was  Sprigg. 
All  as  clear  as  moonshine  now.  Sprigg!" 

"Sir!"  The  urchin  would  have  said  "what"  to 
pap  and  mam. 

"A  particular  friend  of  yours  sent  you  a  pair  of 
red  moccasins  one  night  last  wef1^— ^id  your  father 
deliver  them  to  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


88  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

"Have  you  worn  them  yet?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Have  you  worn  them  to-day?"  To  which,  after 
a  pause,  Sprigg  owned  that  he  had. 

"Did  you  have  them  on  when  you  left  home?" 

"Well,  no,  sir;  not  exactly." 

"But  I  want  it  exactly — yes  or  no." 

"Well,  I  was  barefooted  when  I  left  the  house, 
and  wasn't  barefooted  when  I  left  the  spring." 

"What  particular  place  did  you  have  in  your 
mind,  as  your  journey's  end,  when  you  set  out  from 
home?"  ' 

"Grandpap's  house,  sir." 

"And  did  you  ask  permission  of  your  father  or 
mother,  sir?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  did  you  obtain  their  permission?"  The 
bear's  eyes,  by  this  time,  as  sharp  as  gimblets ;  as 
piercing  as  sprig-awls.  Sprigg  made  a  long  pause 
before  answering  this  question ;  and  when,  at  last, 
he  did  do  so,  he  pulled  out  the  words,  as  a  dentist 
pulls  out  teeth — with  a  twist  and  a  wince — "No,  sir, 
I  didn't." 

"Did  any  one  see  you  as  you  were  taking  your 
departure  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  mam  saw  me  as  I  was  climbing  the 
fence." 

"And  what  did  your  mam  say  to  you,  as  you  were 
climbing  the  fence  ?" 


AN  AGREEABLE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  89 

"She  asked  me  where  I  was  going  with  the  big 
cedar  bucket." 

"And  what  did  you  tell  her?  Now,  have  a  care, 
Sprigg !  Be  certain  you  come  square  up !"  and  the 
bear  raised  his  right  fore-foot  paw  with  a  warning 
gesture,  awful  to  see,  at  the  same  time  showing  a 
double  row  of  teeth,  which  gleamed  like  crooked 
little  dirks  in  the  moonshine. 

"Oh !  Please,  sir,  don't  look  at  me  so  with  your 
teeth!  I  don't  like  to  see  you  look  that  way!"  and 
our  hero  mashed  up  his  face  for  a  cry. 

"Oh,  you  don't  like  my  looks,  hey!  Hold  your 
brine !  You  don't  like  my  looks !  Aye,  and  bad 
boys  never  do !  Never  did !  So,  when  bad  boys 
find  fault  with  my  looks,  I  just  say:  'If  you  don't 
like  'em,  you  can  lump  'em.'  That's  what  I  say. 
'It's  your  own  fault,  if  my  looks  don't  please  your 
fancy.'  I  say  that,  too.  'You  see  right,  and  I'll  look 
right,'  that's  something  more  I  say.  Now,  sir,  out 
with  it — straight  as  an  arrow,  plump  as  a  bullet — 
what  did  you  tell  your  mother,  as  you  were  climbing 
the  fence?"  And  the  bear  again  raised  his  right 
fore  paw,  and  showed  the  double  row  of  crooked 
little  dirks. 

"Oh !  if  you  please,  sir,  don't  look  that  way,"  said 
our  hero,  still  with  his  face  mashed  up  for  a  cry. 
"Please  don't  look  at  me  so  with  your  long,  sharp 
teeth !  It  scares  me  all  but  into  fits !  My  name's 
Sprigg!" 


00  THE  RED   MOCCASINS. 

"And  who  said  it  wasn't  ?"  growled  the  bear ;  and 
then  in  a  mocking  tone  added :  "Oh,  he  is  trying 
to  dodge  me  ,  is  he  ?  His  name's  Sprigg,  is  it  ? 
With  this  for  a  fresh  start,  we'll  pass  on  again  to  his 
age,  and  from  that  to  his  pedigree ;  when  he  will  tell 
us  how  his  Brandywine  uncle  took  to  preaching,  be 
cause  of  his  wooden  legs.  Speaking  of  preachers, 
up  comes  his  catechism,  which,  when  well  said,  good 
little  boys  get  the  pat  on  the  head  and  go  out  to  play. 
Thus,  he  was  going  to  lead  us  by  the  nose  from 
point  to  point,  till  the  point  in  point  was  clean  lost 
sight  of.  No,  no,  my  sly  cub;  you  don't  bamboozle 
an  old  bear  so  easily  as  all  that.  Then  out  with  it  at 
once,  and  mind  how  you  blink  it  again!  What  did 
you  tell  your  mother?" 

Sprigg  would  have  blinked  it  still,  but  when  he 
had  looked  this  way  and  that  way  at  the  bear,  and 
down  at  the  moccasins  and  up  at  the  man  in  the 
moon,  he  saw  that  to  dodge  the  question  longer 
were  but  to  hide  his  head,  so  to  speak,  under  a  fence 
rail,  like  a  goose,  or  a  pig,  and  fool  himself  into 
thinking  he  was  safe.  So,  with  a  great  gulp,  to  keep 
his  heart  down,  which  would  come  heaving  up  to  his 
throat,  he  at  last  cried  out : 

"Oh,  I  told  her  a  lie!  I  told  her  a  lie!"  and 
bursting  into  tears,  he  hid  his  face  in  his  coonskin 
cap  for  shame. 

The  bear  paused  for  a  moment ;  then,  in  a  voice 
quite  soft  and  gentle  for  him,  said ; 


AN  AGREEABLE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  91 

"But  you  mourn  in  your  heart  for  having  done 
this  thing?" 

"Yes,  indeed ;  that  I  do !"  and  the  little  prodigal 
shook  from  top  to  toe  with  the  violence  of  his  sobs. 

"And  for  why  ?"  asked  the  bear,  in  the  same  gen 
tle  way,  only  more  so,  almost  fatherly. 

"Because,"  sobbed  the  boy,  "had  I  not  done  so,  I 
should  not  be  here  now,  in  this  dark  and  lonesome 
place,  with  nobody  for  company,  nobody  to  give  me 
my  supper,  nobody  to  put  me  to  bed,  nobody  to — 
to—" 

"And  nobody  to  sing  you  to  sleep  with  a  hymn, 
hey!"  put  in  the  bear  with  a  mocking  grin,  his 
fatherly  manner  gone  in  a  twinkling.  "No,  no,  my 
laddie!  You  are  showing  me  the  matter  wrong 
side  out,  giving  it  to  me  wrong  end  foremost.  You 
must  mourn  in  your  heart  for  the  little  lie  you  have 
told,  before  you  put  up  such  a  pitiful  mouth  for  the 
ills  you  have  thereby  brought  upon  yourself.  Viewed 
in  the  right  light,  these  ills  are  precisely  what  you  de 
serve;  precisely  what  you  need  for  your  own  good. 
But  come,  quiet  down  and  cheer  up,  and  take  a  fresh 
start ;  go  on  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  by  telling 
us  the  whole  story.  You  climbed  the  fence " 

Thus  put  to  it,  Sprigg  fell  to  and  told  the  whole 
thing,  from  beginning  to  end — all  just  as  it  had  hap 
pened.  Indeed,  he  made  so  clean  a  breast  of  it  as  to 
confess  that  he  had  cursed  the  moccasins  on  flinging 
them  away  in  his  pet  of  wrath.  When  he  had  ended, 


92  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

greatly  surprised  was  that  little  sinner  to  find  how 
much  better  he  felt  that,  for  once  in  his  life,  he  had 
told  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 
The  grim  confessor  had  kept  his  eyes  the  while  fixed 
full  and  hard  on  those  of  the  young  delinquent,  with 
out  saying  a  word.  Now  he  turned  his  head  to  the 
right,  with  a  look  as  were  he  inquiring  of  him  who 
stood  in  the  moccasins  if  what  they  had  heard  were 
true.  This  look  must  have  been  answered  by  an 
affirmative  nod  from  the  head  in  the  air,  which 
Sprigg  could  not  see ;  for,  with  a  soft  "Ooh-hooh," 
long  drawn  out,  the  bear  bent  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 
as  if  he  must  needs  meditate  awhile  on  what  he  had 
heard  before  he  could  fairly  make  up  his  mind  what 
to  say  or  do  next.  Thus  he  remained  for  some  mo 
ments,  absorbed  in  thought ;  then,  looking  up  at 
Sprigg,  he  gravely  shook  his  head — took  several  lit 
tle  spells  of  shaking  it  before  breaking  the  awful 
silence. 

"It's  a  bad  case,  Sprigg;  a  mighty  bad  case,  in 
deed.  But  before  we  proceed  any  further,  you  may 
as  well  tell  me  how  you  like  the  looks  of  the  bull  and 
the  cat  and  the  wolf — as  well  as  do  you  mine?" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,  sir !  Not  half  so  well !"  And 
Sprigg  was  perfectly  sincere  in  the  compliment.  The 
bear  improved  the  looks  so  complimented  by  a  beam 
ing  smile  of  gratified  vanity;  and  the  boy  could  per 
ceive  that  the  moccasins  were  again  agitated,  as  if 
the  imp,  or  elf,  or  whatever  it  was  that  stood  in  them, 
were  laughing  in  his  sleeves, 


AN  AGREEABLE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  93 

"It  is  true,  Sprigg,"  resumed  the  bear,  with  a 
look  of  bland  self-satisfaction,  "quite  true  that  I 
have  a  rough  coat  and  a  rough  voice,  and,  it  may  be, 
a  rough  way  with  me  sometimes,  but  they  who  know 
me  best  can  and  do  testify  that  my  heart  is  in  the 
right  place,  for  all  that;  and  that  it  is  a  truer  and 
kinder  heart  than  many  a  one  that  beats  under  wool, 
or  fur,  or  even  buckskin.  But  I  am  deviating  and 
bearing  rather  too  near  upon  the  unpardonable.  A 
person  may  sooner  hope  to  find  forgiveness  for 
speaking  ill  of  his  neighbor  than  well  of  himself. 
Vice  versa,  he  who  speaks  to  his  own  discredit,  as 
you,  Sprigg,  have  just  been  doing,  gains  more  credit 
thereby  than  were  he  to  speak  in  the  highest  praise 
of  another.  And  why?  Because  those  who  listen 
to  such  a  person  are  sure  to  begin  thinking  of  their 
own  merits,  while  he  is  confessing  his  demerits ;  and 
to  think  of  them  is  to  discover  how  immense  they 
are.  This  is  a  fact,  for  which  we  need  not  go  one 
step  out  of  our  way  to  find  an  example.  We  have  it 
right  here.  The  bad  account  you  have  given  of  your 
self  had  set  me  to  thinking  the  better  of  myself. 
Your  confession  of  fault,  putting  me  in  a  good  hu 
mor  with  myself,  puts  me  also  in  a  good  humor 
with  you.  My  merits,  then,  and  your  demerits  are 
on  the  best  of  terms.  In  short,  Sprigg,  to  sum  it 
all  up  in  a  nutshell,  I  am  not  only  one  of  the  best 
fellows  in  the  world,  but  one  of  the  best  friends  you 
ever  had,  or  ever  shall  have;  which  assurance, 
7 


94  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

though  you  may  doubt  it  now,  I  will  prove  to  your 
entire  satisfaction,  even  while  yet  the  month  of  June 
is  young  and  rosy." 

"Sprigg!"  The  boy  said,  "Sir,"  and  the  bear 
went  on :  "You  have  been  a  bad  boy  to-day ;  indeed, 
you  have  been  a  bad  boy  all  the  days  of  your  life. 
You  have  never  yet  seen  that  day,  Sprigg — neither 
winter  nor  summer — when,  eating  a  Christmas  pie, 
you  could  put  in  your  thumb  and  pull  out  a  plum 
and  say :  'What  a  good  boy  am  I !'  Yet,  to  be  just, 
you  are  a  boy  of  excellent  parts  in  many  ways,  which 
encourages  us  to  hope  that  we  may  yet  be  able  to 
bring  out  the  good  that  is  in  you,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  bring  out  the  evil;  at  any  rate,  crumple  it  up 
where  it  is,  which  amounts  to  the  same.  How  this 
desirable  end  is  to  be  attained  is  not  yet  quite  clear  to 
my  own  mind.  So  you  will  have  to  go  home  with  us 
to-night,  where  you  shall  make  the  acquaintance  of 
our  cubs,  who  will  gladly  share  their  bed  with  you. 
And  pleasant  bed-fellows  shall  you  find  them,  too — 
so  soft  and  warm !  So  affectionate,  too !  Only  you 
mustn't  let  them  hug  you  too  hard.  Meanwhile,  I 
shall  consider  your  case,  which,  being  a  peculiar  one, 
I  shall  lay  before  my  wife,  that  I  may  have  the  bene 
fit  of  her  good  advice.  This  she  will  gladly  give, 
believe  me ;  for  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that 
pleases  a  wife  more  than  for  her  husband  to  beg  the 
benefit  of  her  good  advice.  Though  I  fear  it  is  the 
misfortune  with  some  husbands — I  won't  say  how 


AN  AGREEABLE  DISAPPOINTMENT.  95 

many — to  have  wives  so  overstocked  with  the  treas 
ure  in  question  that  they  can  not  wait  to  be  called  on, 
but  must  give  it  gratis,  whether  anybody  wants  it 
or  not.  Like  giving  a  man  a  bottle  of  bear's  grease 
for  his  hair,  when  his  scalp  is  already  sufficiently 
oily  by  nature;  or  by  giving  a  boy  a  bearskin  cap, 
when  he  has  already  a  coonskin  one  of  his  own, 
which  answers  every  purpose,  especially  if  the  tail  is 
left  on.  These  are  the  wives  who  save  their  hus 
bands'  grindstones  from  being  eaten  by  the  cows, 
and  thereby  keep  their  scissors  sharp,  to  say  nothing 
of  their  tongues." 


96  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Will-o'-the-Wisp. 

"Sprigg !"  said  the  bear,  and  rose  from  his  tail. 

"Sir !"  said  the  boy,  as  he  rose  from  his  seat. 

"Can  you  ride  a  bear?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir ;  I  never  tried  it,"  said  the  boy, 
dubiously. 

"Come,  and  try  it  now,"  said  the  bear  encourag 
ingly.  But  being  by  no  means  perfectly  sure,  even 
yet,  of  the  burly  monster,  our  hero  was  in  no  hurry 
to  accept  the  invitation. 

"Come  and  try  it,  I  tell  you!"  repeated  the 
bear  in  his  old,  gruff  voice. 

"You  won't  bite  me  with  your  long,  sharp  teeth, 
will  you?"  whined  the  boy. 

"No,"  growled  the  bear. 

"And  you  won't  scratch  me  with  your  long,  sharp 
claws?"  again  whined  the  boy. 

"Scratch  you  with  my  long,  sharp  claws!  No!" 
again  growled  the  bear. 

"And  you  won't,  like  the  bull  and  the  cat  and  the 
wolf,  go  a-jumping  over  there,  at  that  steep  place  in 
the  hill?"  still  urged  the  boy,  though  a  little  less 
whiningly. 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP.  97 

"Do  like  the  bull  and  the  cat  and  the  wolf?  No !" 
rejoined  the  bear,  a  little  less  growlingly. 

"And  you  won't  kick  up,  and  rear  up  and  cut 
capers,  like  a  horse?"  The  boy,  by  this  time,  not 
whining  at  all. 

"Kick  up,  and  rear  up  and  cut  capers,  like  a 
horse?  No!  Spur  nie,  if  I  do!"  And  this  time,  so 
far  from  growling,  the  monster  actually  chuckled — 
so  funny  could  he  be  when  he  tried. 

"And  now,  having  felt  around  on  every  side,  you 
have,  I  hope,  succeeded  at  last  in  finding  out  on 
which  side  of  your  mug  your  nose  is,  and  are  ready 
to  come  up  and  take  me  at  my  offer.  And  Sprigg, 
my  boy,  for  once  and  for  all — of  this  be  assured — 
that  so  far  as  you  trust  me,  so  far  are  you  safe.  Per 
fect  your  trust — perfect  your  safety." 

Sprigg  was  by  no  means  of  a  confiding  nature; 
people  prone  to  lose  sight  of  the  truth  never  are. 
But  on  receiving  this  reassurance  of  good  faith,  he 
walked  up  boldly  enough  to  the  bear,  who,  as  his 
young  rider  drew  near,  swayed  his  back  to  enable 
him,  with  the  greatest  ease,  to  mount. 

"But  I  have  nothing  to  hold  myself  on  by,"  said 
our  hero,  now  fairly  astraddle  of  his  strange  steed, 
though  pressing  as  lightly  upon  it  as  possible. 

"Take  a  lock  of  my  hair!  If  a  lock  of  hair  is 
good  for  keeping  one's  mind  on  a  friend,  why  not  as 
good  for  keeping  his  body  there,  too?"  Here  he 
chuckled  a  little  again,  then  added: 


98  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

"But  the  young  human  thing,  brave  as  he  is,  may 
not  have  as  much  faith  in  a  lock  of  hair  as  some  peo 
ple  have,  or  pretend  to  have.  So,  up  with  you,  Man- 
itou-Echo,  and  give  him  a  lock  of  your  arms." 

Whereat,  fetching  first  a  nimble  flounce,  the  red 
moccasins,  as  if  their  wearer  made  a  pivot  of  his  head 
in  the  air,  described  a  circular  flourish  aloft,  and  in 
a  twinkle,  there  they  were  at  the  bear's  flanks,  each 
with  a  toe  at  one  of  our  hero's  naked  heels.  In  an 
other  twinkle  Sprigg  felt  himself  clasped  tightly 
around  the  waist,  by  what  seemed  to  be  a  pair  of 
small  arms ;  small,  but,  bless  me !  how  strong,  as  the 
boy  was  but  too  glad  to  discover  the  moment  after. 

"All  right?"  To  which,  receiving  an  affirmative 
kick  from  the  moccasins,  the  bear,  to  Sprigg's  dis 
may,  made  directly  for  the  brink  of  that  horrible 
steep,  where  the  bull,  the  cat  and  the  wolf  had  van 
ished.  Here,  on  the  dizzy  verge,  bear-like,  he 
wheeled  about,  that  his  tail  might  take  the  lead  in 
the  descent,  which  he  evidently  meditated.  The  boy 
glanced  fearfully  over  his  shoulder.  The  top  of  the 
tallest  trees  which  grew  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  were 
hundreds  of  feet  beneath  him,  and  so  directly  be 
neath  him,  it  seemed  to  him  that  were  he  to  fall  from 
the  bear's  back  he  would  drop  like  a  stone  into  their 
branches. 

In  one  long,  smooth,  unbroken  slide,  down 
they  swept,  from  summit  to  base  of  that  tremendous 
steep.  Well  it  was  for  Sprigg  that  the  little  arms 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP.  99 

which  held  him  on  were  so  firm  and  strong,  else 
must  he  inevitably  have  slipped  from  the  bear's  back 
and  found  his  way  to  the  world  below  by  his  own 
natural  gravity,  instead  of  by  somebody  else's  super 
natural  power. 

The  descent  accomplished,  the  bear  changed 
ends,  that  his  nose  might  take  the  lead.  With  a 
slightly  waving  motion,  as  were  he  swimming  in  the 
air,  now  was  he  gliding  swiftly  onward  at  a  speed 
which  soon  brought  him  and  his  riders  to  the  edge  of 
a  wide  swamp,  where  the  forest  foliage  became  so 
thick  as  wholly  to  exclude  the  moonlight.  Here  he 
paused,  and  in  a  loud  voice  called  out : 

"Will-o'-the-Wisp !  Will-o'-the-Wisp !"  A  voice 
so  tremendously  loud  that  it  must  have  been  heard 
through  all  the  wilds  around;  yet  never  an  echo  it 
left  to  tell  it  had  sounded. 

Had  an  echo  awakened,  it  could  hardly  have 
fallen  asleep  again  before  the  boy  espied  approach 
ing  them  swiftly  through  the  gloom  a  large  ball  of 
light,  which  shown  with  a  phosphorescent  gleam,  so 
dead  and  dim,  that  the  luminous  circle  it  made  in  the 
pitch-black  darkness  of  the  swamp  seemed  scarcely 
to  exceed  its  own  circumference.  Without  any  pre 
liminary  abatement  of  motion,  the  glimmering  ball, 
as  were  it  a  lantern  borne  by  an  unseen  hand,  came 
suddenly  to  a  pause  in  the  air  directly  before  them. 
Then  followed  an  odd  sort  of  a  dialogue,  made  up  of 
questions  on  one  side,  with  motions  for  answers  on 


100  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

the  other,  the  wisp-light  moving  up  and  down  for 
"yes,"  from  side  to  side  for  "no/'  and  for  "I  don't 
know,"  'round  and  'round. 

Bear.  "Will-o'-the-Wisp,  have  you  lighted  the 
robber's  feet  to  the  pit-fall  ?" 

Wisp.     Up  and  down. 

B.  "Did  he  swear?" 

W.  From  side  to  side. 

B.  "Did  he  pray?" 

W.  Up  and  down. 

B.  "Will  he  be  less  of  a  thief  for  the  pit-fall?" 

W.  'Round  and  'round. 

B.  "Has  Friar's  lantern  lighted  the  hypocrite's 
feet  to  the  quicksands?" 

W.  Up  and  down. 

B.  "Did  he  swear?" 

W.  Up  and  down. 

B.  "Did  he  pray?" 

W.  From  side  to  side. 

B.  "Will  he  be  the  less  of  a  scamp  for  the  quick 
sands  ?" 

W.  'Round  and  'round. 

B.  "Has  Jack-o'-Lantern  lighted  the  bad  boy's 
feet  to  the  frog-pond?" 

W.  Up  and  down. 

B.  "Did  he  swear?" 

W.  From  side  to  side. 

B.  "Did  he  pray?" 

W.  From  side  to  side. 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP.  101 

B.  "Then  he  must  have  swum?" 

W.  Up  and  down. 

B.  "Will  he  be  the  less  of  a  rogue  for  the  frog- 
pond?" 

W.  'Round  and  'round. 

The  questions  duly  answered,  and  evidently  to  his 
entire  satisfaction,  the  bear  wound  up  the  dialogue 
thus: 

"  Then,  Will,  lead  on,  over  mire  and  clay, 
And  when  you  come  where  the  dead  men  lay, 
Hold  your  lantern  close  to  the  mound, 
That  we  may  keep  on  Manitou  ground." 

With  Will-o'-the-Wisp  now  at  their  head,  again 
were  they  speeding  swiftly  onward.  Of  their  guide, 
Sprigg  could  at  first  see  nothing,  saving  his  big,  dim 
lantern;  but,  soon  chancing  to  look  a  little  lower, 
there,  directly  under  the  light,  he  saw,  strange  to 
tell,  a  pair  of  red  moccasins,  gliding  on  over  the  tops 
of  the  rank  swamp  weeds,  and  so  lightly  that  the 
long,  lithe  sedge,  swaying  to  the  slightest  breeze, 
bent  not  under  their  tread.  The  boy  glanced  quickly 
down  at  his  heels  to  reassure  himself  that  the  wispy 
elf  had  not  stepped  into  and  walked  off  in  his  own 
moccasins.  But  there  they  still  dangled,  just  the 
same,  each  with  a  toe  at  one  of  his  heels.  Then 
flashed  it  upon  his  mind  that  he  had  not  really  seen 
his  own  moccasins  since  he  had  flung  them  from 
him  up  there  on  the  Manitou  hill ;  and  so,  for  aught 
he  or  anybody  else  could  tell,  red  moccasins,  if  peo- 


102  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

pie  could  only  see  them,  might  prove  to  be  as  plenti 
ful  in  the  world  as  Yankee  shoes. 

How  long,  how  far  they  traveled  Sprigg,  of 
course,  had  no  means  of  judging;  but  the  moon  had 
well  nigh  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  sky,  when,  hav 
ing  left  the  morass  far  behind  them,  they  came  to  the 
foot  of  another  lofty  mountain,  where,  under  the 
shadow  of  a  beetling  cliff,  yawned  the  rocky  jaws  of 
a  huge  cavern,  into  which  Will-o'-the-Wisp  led  the 
way,  his  big,  dim  lamp  beginning  to  brighten  the 
moment  it  entered  the  subterranean  gloom.  Hardly 
had  they  crossed  the  threshold  when  Sprigg  could 
perceive  that  they  were  descending  as  steeply  as,  but 
now,  they  had  been  rising.  Deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  heart  of  the  mountain  they  sank ;  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  heart  of  the  earth ;  the  ball  of  light 
no  longer  a  phosphorescent  gleam,  but  a  flame  of 
living  fire.  But  it  was  not  long  before  they  had  de 
scended  again  to  the  level  ground,  which  they  tra 
versed  for  some  distance,  then,  for  the  first  time 
since  quitting  the  farther  side  of  the  swamp,  came 
they  to  a  pause. 

Sprigg  looked  around  him.  Nothing  could  he 
see,  saving  the  bear,  the  red  moccasins  behind  him, 
the  red  moccasins  before  him ;  and  just  over  the  lat 
ter  the  ball  of  light,  which  was  now  burning  with 
such  brilliancy  that  the  luminous  hemisphere  around 
it  formed  a  wide  and  lofty  dome  in  the  solid  dark 
ness  of  the  cavern.  For  some  moments  past  he  had 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP.  103 

heard  a  murmuring  sound,  as  of  abundant  waters 
rippling  over  a  rocky  bed ;  and  filling  all  the  air  was  a 
delectable  perfume,  as  if  flowery  fields  and  fruitful 
groves  must  be  blooming  and  waving  not  far  off. 
By  this  time  nothing  amazed  him.  Nothing  fright 
ened  him.  He  moved  and  felt  and  thought  as  one  in 
a  dream ;  and  so,  indeed,  had  it  all  appeared  to  him 
from  the  moment  he  had  lost  sight  of  his  father, 
there  at  the  old  hunting  camp. 


104  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

% 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Megf  of  the  Hills. 

"Meg  of  the  Hills !  Meg  of  the  Hills !"  So  called 
the  bear  in  a  loud  voice ;  very  loud,  indeed,  yet  in 
the  tone  of  the  voice  was  something  which  Sprigg 
had  not  before  observed  there,  so  deep  and  mellow 
and  musical  was  it.  In  answer  to  the  summons,  forth 
into  the  luminous  circle,  from  some  mysterious 
depth  of  the  cavern,  soon  came  gliding  a  bearess, 
who  seemed  in  every  way  a  match  for  the  bear,  ex 
cepting  that  she  was  of  a  smoother,  gentler  type. 

"  Meg  of  the  Hills,  have  all  come  home, 
From  mountain  climb  and  forest  roam, 
From  river  mist  and  ocean  foam, 

From  moon-rise  white  and  sun-set  red, 
From  elk-stag  lair  and  bison  bed, 
From  panther  ambush  still  and  dread, 
All,  all  returned  ?  " 

To  which  the  bearess  answered: 

*'  Yes  all  returned  to  Manitou  den, 
Save  those  who  walk  by  night  with  men, 
To  bring  the  deeds  in  darkness  done, 
To  the  dread  light  of  the  tell-tale  sun." 

Then  suddenly  assuming  a  tone  of  voice  as  dif 
ferent  from  the  former  as  fiddle  from  violin,  and  with 
a  particular  eye  to  our  hero,  where  he  still  kept  his 


MEG  OF  THE  HILLS.  105 

seat  on  his  charger's  back,  or  rather  was  kept  there 
by  the  unlocked  arms  of  Manitou-Echo,  the  bearess 
added : 

"And  you  did  find  the  little  runaway,  sure  enough, 
Nick?" 

"Aye,  that  did  I,  and  a  stiff-necked,  strong- 
backed,  hard-muzzled  cub  of  a  human  thing  do  I 
find  him,  too  !  Tough !  Tough !" 

"Then  all  the  accounts  we  have  heard  of  him  are 
but  too  true,"  sadly  observed  the  bearess,  whom  the 
bear  called  "Meg." 

"But  too  true !"  echoed  the  bear,  whom  the  bear- 
ess  called  "Nick." 

Meg.  "Is  it  really  a  fact,  then,  that  his  thoughts 
by  day  and  his  dreams  by  night  are  so  taken  up  with 
red  moccasins  that  he  is  in  a  fair  way  to  make  a 
monkey  of  himself?" 

Nick.  "Really  a  fact." 

Meg.  "A  fact,  too,  that  he  had  no  thanks  in  his 
heart  for  the  beautiful  moccasins,  which  his  kindest 
of  fathers  gave  him  one  night  last  week  ?" 

Nick.  "A  fact,  too!" 

Meg.  "A  fact,  also,  that  his  thoughts  are  so 
wrapped  up  in  the  moccasins  that  he  has  none  left 
for  his  prayers?" 

Nick.  "A  fact,  also !" 

Meg.  "And,  likewise,  a  fact  that  he  sneaked  off, 
like  a  spit-thief  dog,  when  his  best  of  mothers  had 
told  him  and  told  him,  times  and  times,  that  he  ought 
not,  and  he  should  not?" 


106  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

Nick.  "Like — wise — a — fact!"  slowly  pulling  the 
words,  as  if  he  could  hardly  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
testify  to  behavior  so  shabby. 

Meg.  "But,  Nick,"  and  she  looked  earnestly  at  her 
lord,  as  if  hoping  that  for  this  one  time,  at  least,  he 
would  vary  his  affirmative  echoes  just  a  little,  "that 
slip  of  the  tongue  on  the  fence,  which  Manitou-Echo 
reported  to  us — surely,  now,  you  can't  say  'yes'  to 
that?" 

But  Nick  said  neither  "no"  nor  "yes."  He  an 
swered  never  a  word !  All  mum,  he  hung  his  head, 
and  but  for  the  hair  on  his  face  he  would  have  been 
seen  to  blush  up  to  the  very  eyes. 

Meg.  "I  spare  you  the  verbal  answer.  I  read  it 
but  too  plainly  in  your  looks.  Hard  is  it  for  us  poor 
Manitous  to  imagine  how  a  boy — a  Christian,  human 
boy,  who  knows  his  catechism — could  be  so  false  to 
the  mother  that  bore  him!  Using  the  very  breath 
she  gave  him  to  tell  her  a  lie !  Then  we  can  no 
longer  doubt  that,  in  addition  to  all,  he  did  actually 
curse  the  red  moccasins,  when  he  spurned  them  from 
him  up  there  on  Manitou  Hill.  The  beautiful  moc 
casins  he  had  so  earnestly  longed  for,  and  which  had 
been  procured  for  him  at  such  cost,  and  had  borne 
him  so  bravely  through  wood  and  swamp,  over  hill 
and  dale !" 

Nick.  "My  dear,  to  give  the  round  sum  of  the 
matter,  it  is  all  precisely  as  Manitou-Echo  has  re 
ported.  But,  if  you  need  additional  evidence  to  set 


MEG  OF  THE  HILLS.  107 

your  doubts  at  rest,  know,  then,  that  the  boy  him 
self  has  made  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  me,  and  the  two 
stories  tally  from  beginning  to  end — tally  as  nicely 
as  our  two  tails." 

Meg.  "What !  Not  to  leave  out  those  secret  de 
signs  on — what  did  Manitou-Echo  call  them — the 
boy  and  the  girl?" 

Nick.  "Young  Ben  Logan  and  little  Bertha  Bry 
ant." 

Meg.  "Not  to  leave  out  his  secret  designs  on 
young  Ben  Logan  and  little  Bertha  Bryant?  The 
boy  to  lose  his  life  for  envy ;  the  girl  her  senses  for 
love — all  because  of  the  beautiful  moccasins !" 

Nick.  "Well,  well,  Meg,  mum's  the  word  just 
there.  *He's  human,  remember,  and  you  know  they 
say  that  'Adam's  fall  made  fools  of  all ;'  and  so,  with 
their  tails  up,  here  they  come;  and,  with  their  tails 
down,  there  they  go — in  that  respect  resembling 
dogs,  who,  in  their  turn,  acquired  the  habit  from 
their  human  masters.  But  I  am  deviating,  and  I 
perceive  that  you  are  wishing  to  make  some  further 
inquiry.  What  is  it,  my  dove?" 

Meg.  "I  was  longing  to  ask  if — what's  his 
name  ?" 

Nick.  "Sprigg." 

Meg.  "If  Sprigg  has  not  manifested  the  deepest 
sorrow  and  repentance  for  what  he  has  done  to 
day.  Does  he  not  mourn  to  think  of  the  pain  and 
distress  which,  by  his  most  undutiful  conduct,  he  is 
causing  his  dear  father  and  his  dear,  dear  mother?" 


108  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

Nick.  (With  a  sad  shake  of  the  head.)  "Not  with 
heart-grief,  I  fear ;  not  with  heart-grief !  He  mourns 
over  the  ills  which  he  has  brought  upon  himself  by 
his  undutiful  conduct,  rather  than  over  the  wrong 
thereof,  or  because  of  the  pain  and  distress  which  it 
must  be  causing  his  dear  mother  and  his  dear,  dear 
father !"  And  again  Nick  shook  his  head,  as  were  it 
a  desperate  case  almost  beyond  hope. 

Meg.  (With  almost  as  hopeless  a  shake  of  the 
head  as  Nick.)  "Ah,  me !  who  would  have  thought 
it?  Who  could  have  thought  it?  Why,  Nick,  he  is 
as  bad  as  Robinson  Crusoe,  is  he  not  ?" 

Nick.  "Oh,  worse  than  Robinson  Crusoe.  Rob 
inson  Crusoe,  it  is  true,  ran  away  from  home  against 
the  command  of  his  father  and  the  prayers  of  his 
mother.  But  he  used  no  deception  in  the  matter. 
Robinson  did  not  go  a-sneaking  off,  with  a  lie  in  his 
mouth  and  his  shoes  in  the  water  bucket ;  a-sneaking 
off  like  a  spit-thief  dog,  to  use  your  own  expressive 
words.  And  yet,  even  his  case  was  considered  seri 
ous  enough  for  a  putting  through  on  a  desert  island. 
Yes !  A  good  deal  worse  than  Robinson  Crusoe,  else 
no  need  were  there  of  putting  him  through  so." 

Meg.  "But  come,  now,  Nick;  you  can't  stand 
there  and  tell  me  that  Sprigg  is  as  bad  a  boy  as  Jack 
Bean-Stalk  ?" 

Nick.  "Well,  no;  not  so  bad  as  that.  Not  so 
bad  as  Jack  Bean-Stalk.  Jack  Bean-Stalk  was  so 
near  the  very  tipping-over  edge  of  total  depravity 


MEG  OF  THE  HILLS.  109 

that  I  have  often  wondered  since — in  fact,  wondered 
at  the  time — that  it  did  not  require  a  more  tremen 
dous  putting-through  than  sliding  up  and  down,  be-,, 
tween  earth  and  moon,  for  developing  such  a  hard 
case  of  a  boy  into  an  honest  man.  Perhaps,  the  man 
in  the  moon,  while  the  rogue  was  up  there,  lent  us  a 
helping  hand,  not  suffering  him  to  come  down  to 
earth  again,  excepting  on  condition  that  he  would 
thenceforth  keep  his  shadow,  as  much  as  possible,  in 
the  sunshine ;  as  little  as  possible  in  the  moonshine ; 
sow  no  more  wild  oats,  plant  no  more  wild  beans." 

Meanwhile,  the  subject  of  this  moral  confab  re 
mained  comfortably  seated  upon  his  charger's  back. 
The  matter  and  the  manner  of  the  confab  smacked 
so  much  of  the  kind  he  was  used  to,  that  he  was  be 
ginning  to  feel  himself  quite  at  home,  and  fancied 
that  he  could  have  little  to  fear  for  life  or  limb,  so 
long  as  he  found  himself  in  the  company  of  people, 
with  feeling  so  home-like  in  their  hearts,  and  with 
words  so  home-like  on  their  lips.  Therefore,  the 
more  home-like  grew  the  moralizers,  the  more 
Sprigg-like  grew  the  subject.  But,  bearing  in  mind 
how  sensitive  he  was  to  ridicule,  you  can  well  im 
agine  how  he  winced  to  hear  himself  compared  to  a 
"spit-thief  dog;"  and  how  he  squirmed  to  find  his 
secret  designs  on  young  Ben  Logan  and  little  Ber 
tha  Bryant,  which  he  had  not  openly  owned  to 
himself,  thus  come  popping  out  into  the  tell-tale  light 
of  Will-o'-the-Wisp.  The  wispy  lamp  was  now  not 


110  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

only  burning  as  a  living  flame,  but  twinkling  like  a 
living  eye,  which  winked  or  blinked  or  stared  at 
the  boy,  as  were  it  perfectly  cognizant  of  all  that  was 
passing  among  them.  But  if  it  was  all  a  dream,  as 
Sprigg  by  this  time  was  half  persuaded  it  must  me, 
what  mattered  it,  though  Will-o'-the-Wisp  did  snuff 
his  lamp  into  a  tell-tale  brightness,  for  Meg  of  the 
Hills  to  show  a  "spit-thief  dog"  in,  or  for  Nick  of  the 
Woods  to  hold  up  a  bug-bear  lie  in?  It  was  only  a 
dream,  which,  coming  soon  to  an  end,  should  be 
wondered  over  for  a  moment,  then  forgotten.  Yes, 
and  in  the  like  sense,  so  is  life. 

"Then,  dear  Nick,"  answered  Meg  at  length,  after 
they  had  shaken  their  heads  for  some  moments  in 
silence,  "as  Sprigg's  case  is  not  so  bad  as  Jack  Bean- 
Stalk's,  it  is  not  yet  too  late  to  bring  the  poor,  stray 
cub  back  to  his  milk  again.  But  he  must  first  be 
made,  not  only  to  see,  but  to  feel  and  acknowledge 
the  error  of  his  ways  before  we  can  hope  to  amend 
them.  Now,  how  is  this  to  be  brought  about  ?  How 
is  this  case  to  be  treated?" 

"My  dear  Meg,  that  is  the  very  question  I  have 
been  asking  myself  all  this  time,  and  to  find  the  an 
swer  I  must  be  allowed  a  few  hours'  privacy  for 
thinking  the  matter  over.  So  you  and  the  children 
go  to  bed  and  leave  me  to  my  reflections,  and  in  the 
morning  we  will  hold  another  consultation." 

So  saying,  the  bear,  with  the  look  of  one  pre 
paring  himself  for  deep  thought,  and  all  unconscious 


MEG  OF  THE  HILLS.  Ill 

of  what  he  was  doing,  seated  himself  upon  his 
haunches.  Whereat,  Manitou-Echo  suddenly  quit 
ted  his  seat,  when,  with  a  swift,  sleek  slide  down  his 
charger's  back,  plump  to  the  ground  came  Sprigg, 
still  in  a  sitting  posture,  his  straddled  legs  as  nicely 
adjusted  to  the  bear's  broad  rump  as  spur  to  heel. 

"Bless  a  body,"  cried  the  bear,  glancing  'round  at 
our  hero,  where  he  sat  with  his  face  all  crumpled  up 
for  a  cry ;  not  that  he  was  hurt  in  the  least,  but  that 
Manitou-Echo  and  Will-o'-the-Wisp  were  laughing 
at  him,  as  he  could  see  (for  he  could  not  hear  them) 
by  the  fantastic  capers  of  their  moccasins  and  by 
the  lantern  bobbing  up  and  down.  "Bless  a  body! 
But  it  had  quite  slipped  my  mind  that  the  cub  was  on 
my  back.  There,  now!  Don't  rub  so  hard,  and 
save  your  brine  for  your  sins." 

"He-he-he!"  laughed  Manitou-Echo,  now  aloud. 

"Ha-ha-ha!"  laughed  Will-o'-the-Wisp. 

"Ho-ho-ho !"  Elfin  laughter  resounding  now 
from  every  side.  The  boy  looked  quickly  about 
him.  To  his  astonishment,  he  found  the  floor  of  the 
cave,  as  far  as  the  light  of  the  bobbing  lantern  al 
lowed  him  to  see,  alive,  so  to  speak,  with  red  moc 
casins,  all  dancing  about  on  tip-toe,  or  kicking  glee 
fully  into  the  air. 

"Hush,  children,  hush!"  cried  Meg  of  the  Hills, 
in  a  voice  of  gentle  remonstrance.  "Do  you  not  see 
how  it  hurts  the  poor  boy  to  be  laughed  at?  Hush, 
I  charge  you!" 


112  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

The  elfin  laughter  ceased  at  once.  But  straight, 
the  void  thus  left  was  filled  by  a  long,  calf-like  howl 
from  our  hero,  who,  now  that  he  had  found  there 
some  one  capable  of  understanding  what  a  human 
boy  could  suffer,  must  need  give  vent  to  his  wounded 
feelings — laugh  who  would.  His  lamentation  had 
not  reached  the  modulating  point,  when,  from  the 
hollow  depths  around,  there  came,  first,  a  big  buzz, 
then  a  hoarse  hum,  and  then  a  mumbling,  rumbling, 
grumbling  sort  of  a  noise,  which  striking  his  ear  as 
no  empty  echo,  caused  him  to  cut  short  his  longest 
howl  in  the  middle,  to  listen  and  glance  about  him. 

"It's  only  a  trick,"  drily  observed  the  bear.  "Our 
old  house  is  in  the  habit  of  playing  our  guests,  when 
they  sing  or  laugh  too  loud." 

"Or,  rather  a  fashion,"  gently  observed  the  bear- 
ess,  'our  old  house  has  of  reminding  us  when  it  is 
time  we  were  putting  our  weary  guests  to  bed. 
Here,  Will-o'-the-Wisp  and  Manitou-Echo,  show 
our  young  guest  to  bed,  and  be  so  courteous  as  to 
allow  him  the  choice  side,  and  charge  the  cubs  not  to 
crowd  him  or  hug  him,  as  he  is  an  only  child,  and  not 
accustomed  to  our  litterish  way  of  sleeping." 

So,  with  Manitou-Echo  on  one  side  and  Will-o'- 
the-Wisp  on  the  other,  the  young  guest  was  shown, 
in  quite  a  stately  style,  to  bed.  The  bed  he  found 
to  be  as  nice  and  snug  as  the  cleanest  of  leaves  and 
grass  and  the  most  velvety  of  moss  could  make  it, 
and  was  already  occupied  by  three  or  four  young 


MEG  OF  THE  HILLS.  113 

bears;  while  close  beside  it,  ranged  in  a  row,  were 
three  or  four  pairs  of  red  moccasins.  At  first  this 
circumstance  struck  the  boy  as  somewhat  curious, 
but  on  perceiving  that  Will-o'-the-Wisp  and  Mani- 
tou-Echo  had  kicked  off  their  moccasins,  and  set 
them  in  the  same  row  with  the  others,  and  now,  in 
the  likeness  of  two  young  bears,  were  lying  side  by 
side  in  bed,  the  mystery  was  made  as  clear  to 
him  as  the  light  of  Will's  lamp,  which  still  hung  in 
the  air  where  he  had  left  it. 

As  Sprigg  stood  hesitating  whether  to  turn  in  or 
not,  Meg  came  up  behind  him,  and  with  a  gentle 
push  of  the  nose  against  his  back,  said:  "There's 
your  bed,  and  there  are  your  bedfellows.  So  in  with 
you,  my  stout  one,  and  make  yourself  comfortable." 
As  he  still  hesitated,  the  bearess  brought  him  a  soft 
dab  of  her  paw  on  his  back  with  a  somewhat  stronger 
push,  which  left  him  no  alternative  but  to  turn  in  as 
he  was  bidden  and  make  the  best  of  it.  Then,  hum 
ming  a  low,  lullaby  sort  of  a  tune,  Meg  went  'round 
the  bed,  softly  pushing  up  and  smoothing  down  the 
grass  and  moss,  all  in  a  motherly  way,  which  was  so 
like  dear  mam  that  it  brought  the  tears  to  the  lost 
boy's  eyes — the  softest,  the  sweetest  tears  he  had 
ever  shed.  He  would  fain  have  kept  them  back,  but 
in  spite  of  all  he  could  do  they  would  come  stealing 
out  and  trickling  down.  But  Meg  was  glad  to  see 
them,  hailing  them  as  precious  indications  that,  hard 
as  he  seemed,  there  was  still  enough  of  human  affec- 


114  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

.tion  in  his  nature  to  encourage  the  hope  that  he 
might  be  easily  won  over  to  the  side  of  love  and 
truth. 

With  the  blossom-like  odors  and  the  water-like 
murmurs  still  in  the  air  around  him,  the  little  cast 
away  was  dropping  off  to  sleep,  when  that  voice,  so 
like  his  mother's,  which  he  had  heard  on  the  hill  at 
twilight,  came  again  to  his  ear,  repeating  the  same 
words :  "You  have  but  too  much  need  of  rest ! 
Then,  sleep,  poor  child,  sleep!" 


THE  MANITOU  VOICES.  115 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Manitou  Voices* 

It  was  the  hour  when  good  boys,  with  cheerful 
hearts  and  innocent  thoughts,  are  wont  to  rise  to  the 
cheerful  duties  and  innocent  pleasures  of  the  day, 
that  Sprigg  was  awakened  from  a  sweet  dream  of 
home  by  a  voice  close  beside  him,  which  came  to 
him  like  his  mother's  gentle  morning  call.  He 
opened  his  eyes,  but  could  see  nothing,  save  a  dense, 
red  mist,  bright  and  luminous,  yet  as  impenetrable 
to  sight  as  the  blackest  darkness.  But  when,  on 
reaching  out  his  hand.,  he  had  felt  the  moss  and 
grass  of  the  bed  he  lay  on,  and  the  hairy  coats  of  the 
bears  he  lay  with,  then  knew  he  but  too  well  that 
his  sweet  thoughts  of  home — his  mother's  gentle 
morning  call,  his  father's  jolly  laugh,  and  Pow-wow's 
loud,  heroic  bark — were  all  an  empty  dream.  And 
yet,  hardly  more  assured  was  he  that  what  his  senses 
were  insisting  on  telling  him  were  not  things  just 
as  empty  and  unsubstantial. 

What  the  voice  was  saying  when  it  woke  him,  the 
boy  could  not  recall,  but  it  left  a  feeling  in  his  heart 
as  if  pitying  tenderness  had  been  the  burden  of  the 
words  it  had  spoken.  Tones  were  "still  lingering  in 
his  ear,  and  with  effect  so  soothing  that  he  should 


116  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

probably  have  fallen  asleep  again ;  but  in  answer  to 
it  he  heard  another  voice,  so  abrupt  and  stern  that 
he  started  up  wide  awake,  and,  in  an  instant,  was  all 
attention.  What  passed  between  the  invisible  speak 
ers,  whom  we  shall  distinguish  as  the  "Stern  Voice" 
and  the  "Soft  Voice,"  ran,  word  for  word,  as  follows : 

Stern  Voice.     "He  must  run  the  Manitou  race." 

Soft  Voice.  "Is  that  terrible  ordeal  his  only 
chance  ?" 

Stern  Voice.  "It  is.  Though  so  young,  his 
heart  is  already  so  proud  and  deceitful  and  hard  that 
we  must  all  but  break  it,  to  bring  it  to  the  good  for 
which  it  is  destined,  and  of  which  it  is  capable." 

Soft  Voice.  "But  he  can  hardly  as  yet  have 
strayed  so  far  from  good  as  to  need  so  severe  an  ex 
perience  for  bringing  him  back.  There  were  tears 
on  his  face  last  night  when  he  fell  asleep — soft,  sweet 
tears — and  there  are  fresh  ones  upon  it  now.  May 
not  these  plead  for  him?" 

Stern  Voice.  "True,  there  is  something  of  hu 
man  affection  in  these  tears.  But  apart  from  this, 
they  are  shed,  not  in  contrition  for  the  sinfulness  of 
his  course,  but  in  grief  for  the  pitiful  plight  to  which 
it  has  brought  him.  Being  the  tears  of  self-pity,  and 
not  of  repentance,  they  are  not  the  kind  to  divert 
us  from  our  fixed  purpose — that  purpose,  our  high 
est  duty." 

Soft  Voice.    "But,  then,  he  is  so  young  yet !" 

Stern  Voice.     "But,  then,  he  is  so  bad  already!" 


THE  MANITOU  VOICES.  117 

Soft  Voice.  "But,  bethink  you,  how  much  it 
lacks  of  being  wholly  his  own  fault?  Indeed,  he  is 
scarcely  at  all  responsible  for  being  what  he  is,  and 
it  seems  hard  that  he  should  be  made  to  suffer  for 
the  folly  of  others." 

Stern  Voice.  "That  is  very  true ;  and  just  there  is 
represented  to  us  a  mystery,  not  ours  to  fathom! 
We  are  the  Manitous  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  what 
he  bids  be  done,  he  bids  uncounseled,  and  would  have 
done  unquestioned.  They,  who  reared  this  boy  to 
be  the  false  young  self  we  find  him,  should  and  shall 
be  made  to  suffer,  also ;  and  even  more  than  he, 
though  the  fond  love  and  the  indulgent  kindness 
with  which  they  have  spoiled  him,  and  thereby 
wronged  him,  be  never  so  tender  and  unselfish. 
Having  so  erred,  they  must  be  made  to  feel  the  con 
sequences  of  their  error,  to  be  made  sensible  of  its 
sinfulness ;  and  thus,  through  suffering,  brought  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  duty  they  owe  their  maker,  their 
offspring  and  themselves.  So,  then,  what  we  pro 
pose  doing,  or,  rather,  what  we  are  charged  to  exe 
cute,  shall  redound  to  their  good  no  less  than  his." 

Soft  Voice.  "But  may  we  not  postpone  the  trial 
for  a  season,  till  he  be  stronger  to  endure  it?" 

Stern  Voice.  'Then  shall  he  have  but  the  more 
to  endure  and  the  less  to  be  hoped  for.  Thus,  'by 
and  by,'  might  be  too  late,  when  'now'  is  none  too 
soon ;  and  the  hope  of  to-day  becomes,  by  postpone 
ment,  the  despair  of  to-morrow.  Last  night  we 


118  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

marked  him  well,  and  perceived  that  our  running 
commentary  upon  the  evil  of  his  way,  with  the  gen 
tle  rebukes  couched  in  them,  had  little  or  no  other 
effect  upon  him  than  to  make  him  feel  at  home  and 
easy  in  his  strange  position.  And  yet  he  could  set 
up  the  pitiful  howl  at  being  ridiculed,  as  were  it  the 
worst,  grievous  injury  that  a  human  boy  could  be 
made  to  suffer.  Yes,  his  heart  is  so  proud  and  de 
ceitful  and  hard  that  we  must  all  but  break  it,  to 
bring  it  to  its  better  nature." 

Soft  Voice.  "Oh,  Nick  of  the  Woods;  but  you 
are  stern!  So  stern!" 

Stern  Voice.  "But,  Meg  of  the  Hills,  you  are 
merciful !  So  merciful !  Your  mercifulness  and  my 
sternness  temper  each  other,  and  the  result  being 
justice,  makes  the  mission  we  are  pointed  to  fulfill  a 
labor  both  of  use  and  love.  You  plead  for  postpone 
ment.  This  indulgence,  without  some  sign  of  re 
pentance  on  his  part,  we  can  not  show  the  culprit. 
Yet,  to  satisfy  you,  I  will  give  him  one  more  chance 
of  exhibiting  his  repentance,  should  there  be  any  in 
his  heart.  I  will  tempt  him  once  more  with  the  red 
moccasins.  Should  he  manifest  no  disposition  to  re 
new  his  acquaintance  with  them,  then  but  too  gladly 
will  I  defer  his  day  of  reckoning,  according  to  your 
desire.  Or,  even  should  he  show  the  least  sign  of 
diminished  affection  for  them,  diminished  and  just  in 
that  proportion  shall  be  the  severity  of  his  punish 
ment.  On  the  other  hand,  should  it  appear  that,  in 


THE  MANITOfJ  VOICES.  lid 

spite  of  the  wholesome  lesson  his  yesterday's  experi 
ence  should  have  taught  him,  he  would  still  take 
pride  and  pleasure  in  the  red  vanities,  to  the  exclu 
sion  of  better  thoughts  and  things,  then  there  is 
nothing  left  for  it  but  to  put  him  through  at  once ; 
no  alternative  but  the  Manitou  race." 

Soft  Voice.  "Well,  well!  So  be  it!  But  I 
greatly  fear  the  test  shall  prove  too  severe  for  the 
virtue  of  the  poor,  vain  boy.  He  has  a  lively  fancy, 
and  the  moccasins  are  very  beautiful ;  their  glitter 
and  gleam  would  dazzle — have  dazzled  older  eyes 
than  his !  Yes,  so  be  it !  And,  after  all,  why  deplore 
it  ?  For 

"When  the  Manitou  race  is  run, 
Which  shall  be  ere  set  of  sun, 
All  is  ended,  all  well  done, 

And  Wahcondah  smiling! " 

Then,  after  a  momentary  pause,  the  two  voices 
joined  and  sang,  or  chanted  in  cadences  weirdly, 
musically,  the  following  song: 

"Manitou  Lords  of  birds  and  beast, 
Hark  to  the  voice  that  conies  from  the  East! 

Great  Wahcondah  calling  you  forth, 

Some  to  South  and  some  to  North, 
Some  to  meet  the  rising  sun, 
Some  to  the  setting  moon  to  run, 

Each  to  creature  he  hath  in  charge; 

Govern  their  way,  their  lives  enlarge; 


120  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

Make  them  less  than  beastly  rude, 
Teach  them  more  than  instinct  rude, 
Lead  them  on  to  Manitou-Land, 
Where  Wahcondah's  powerful  hand 
Waits  to  give  them  Manitou-being, 
Manitou-hearing,   Manitou-seeing, 

Him  to  know,  and  knowing,  adore, 
Manitou  all  forever  more. 
Up  and  forth  to  meet  the  day, 
Over  the  hills  and  far  away; 

Many  a  race  must  be  begun, 
Some  be  finished  ere  set  of  sun, 
All  in  Manitou  fashion  run, 
All  in  Manitou  mercy  done, 
Great  Wahcoudah  wills  it ! " 


THE  MANITOU   EYE.  121 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Manitou  Eye* 

The  song  had  hardly  begun  when  Sprigg  could 
hear  a  huge  stir  in  the  cave,  as  if  the  call  had  awak 
ened  a  multitude  of  living  things  from  the  slumber 
of  the  night.  The  hubbub  was  neither  boisterous 
nor  loud,  yet  it  seemed  to  come,  not  only  from  near 
at  hand,  but  from  far  and  wide.  It  was  an  infinite 
mingling  of  confused,  indistinct  sounds,  like  the  in 
articulate  murmurs  rising  from  innumerable  voices — 
talking,  singing  and  shouting,  intermixed  with  laugh 
ter  and  with  the  cries  of  beasts  and  birds. 

On  hearing  the  commotion  around  him,  the  boy 
had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  now,  with  strained  eyes,  was 
vainly  striving  to  pierce  the  red  mist  in  which  he  was 
enveloped.  Before  the  song  was  ended,  the  multi 
tude,  from  whom  the  hubbub  rose,  were  evidently 
in  rapid  motion,  and  all  in  the  same  direction,  sweep 
ing  past  him  so  that  he  felt  as  if  he  were  standing 
upon  a  rock,  in  the  midst  of  a  wide  and  swiftly  flow 
ing  river,  on  whose  waters  rested  an  impenetrable 
fog.  Closely  intermingled  with  the  voice-like 
sounds  were  now  to  be  distinguished  a  variety  of 
other  noises,  resembling  the  sharp,  light  clattering  of 
cloven  hoofs,  the  muffled  pattering  of  hairy  paws,  or 
the  wind-like  whirring  of  fluttering  wings. 


122  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

As  the  song  closed,  Sprigg  felt  something  placed 
in  his  hand,  which,  becoming  visible  the  moment  it 
came  in  contact  with  him,  proved  to  be  a  coronal  of 
bright  green  plumes,  such  as  we  have  seen  described 
in  the  interview  between  Jervis  Whitney  and  Nick 
of  the  Woods.  It  was  then  remarked  that  his  head 
piece  possessed  the  magic  property  of  rendering  the 
person  who  wore  it — fairy  or  human — invisible  to 
mortal  eyes.  Nor  was  this  all ;  it  had  also  the  power 
of  making  the  sights  and  sounds  of  Fairyland  as 
clearly  perceptible  to  the  senses  of  the  mortal  who 
should  chance  to  get  it  as  to  the  fairies  themselves, 
whether  the  wee  folks  were  willing  or  not,  he  should 
pry  into  their  mysteries. 

This  fantastic  ornament,  the  only  object  visible 
to  him  in  the  red  mist — his  own  hand  that  held  it 
up  to  his  admiring  gaze  not  excepted — Sprigg 
thought  even  more  beautiful  and  desirable  than  ever 
were  the  red  moccasins.  He  was  wishing  it  was 
his,  and  debating  within  himself  whether  he  should 
venture  to  put  it  upon  his  head,  when  a  voice,  which 
he  recognized  to  be  the  same  he  had  heard  at  home 
and  in  the  woods  and  on  the  hill,  and  now  knew  to  be 
that  of  Manitou-Echo,  said: 

"Am  I  not  a  beautiful  thing  for  the  head,  Sprigg? 
Yes,  beautiful !  You  can't  deny  it ;  nobody  can ! 
Put  me  on  your  head!  What's  to  hinder?  Put  me 
on,  and  you  shall  see  what  we  do  with  wild  dreams 
and  wild  dreamers,  here  in  Manitou-land." 


THE  MANITOU  EYE.  123 

In  a  twinkling-  the  vain  boy  had  doffed  the  coon- 
skin  cap  and  donned  the  feathers.  The  magic  coro 
nal  was  hardly  adjusted  to  his  head,  when  suddenly 
the  luminous  red  mist  condensed  itself  high  aloft  into 
a  globe  of  living  light,  leaving  all  surrounding  ob 
jects  clearly  revealed  to  sight,  as  were  the  crystalline 
sheen  of  a  June  day  resting  upon  them.  What 
Sprigg  saw  there  was,  indeed,  a  cave ;  but  far'  more 
the  appearance  had  it  of  a  magnificent  temple,  so 
vast  and  lofty  it  was;  so  mazy  with  multitudinous 
columns  and  arches,  and  so  resplendent  with  the 
light  of  that  living  lamp,  which  found  reflection  in  a 
million  star-like  points,  as  if  wall,  floor,  ceiling,  col 
umn  and  arch  were  studded  with  gems  of  every  rich 
and  brilliant  hue.  The  hubbub  which  he  had  heard 
around  him,  the  individual  sounds  whereof  were 
now  more  distinct  to  his  ear,  Sprigg  found  to  pro 
ceed  from  an  innumerable  multitude  of  diminutive 
people,  sweeping  by  him  in  a  continuous  stream,  and 
in  the  same  direction,  as  if  a  common  impulse  or 
purpose  swayed  them  all. 

The  manikins,  in  complexion,  cast  of  features  and 
fashion  of  dress,  resembled  Indians,  and,  though  so 
red  and  outlandish,  were  beautiful  to  behold.  For 
a  robe,  each  wore  the  skin  of  some  wild  animal, 
which,  on  the  hair  side,  showed  as  fresh  and  sleek  as 
if  the  quondam  owner  had  just  walked  out  of  it; 
while,  on  the  flesh  side,  it  as  as  smooth  as  satin  and 
red  as  blood,  The  robe  was  secured  at  the  throat 


124  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

by  a  clasp,  which  seemed  to  be  made  of  the  claws  or 
hoofs  of  the  beast  to  whom  the  skin  had  once,  and, 
perhaps,  still  belonged.  Many  wore  red  moccasins 
and  coronals  of  green  feathers,  and  here  and  there  in 
the  throng  might  be  seen  one  who  wore  the  wings 
of  some  bird,  between  which  and  the  skin,  forming 
the  robe,  there  seemed  to  be  some  sort  of  affinity, 
very  suggestive,  yet  difficult  to  explain.  Though 
but  the  miniature  of  men,  these  elfin  folks  were  of 
superhuman  activity  and  strength ;  and  in  the  aspect 
of  each  was  something  that  strangely  reminded  one 
of  the  beast  or  bird  to  whom  he  owed  his  robe  or 
wings.  This  latter  peculiarity  was  especially  notice 
able  in  the  gait,  in  the  play  of  the  limbs  and  in  the 
shape  and  glance  of  the  eyes  ;  yet,  in  the  resemblance, 
nothing  was  there  of  deformity  or  unsightliness,  but 
rather  a  weird  beauty — fantastic,  or  wild,  or  savage, 
or  terrible — according  to  the  beast  or  bird  suggested 
thereby — stalking  elk  or  rolling  bison,  gloomy  bear 
or  rounding  panther,  jog-trot  wolf  or  gliding  wild 
cat,  nodding  jay  or  fluttering  pigeon,  swooping  hawk 
or  sweeping  eagle. 

Sprigg  had  hardly  time  to  note  all  this,  when  the 
weird  procession  had  swept  past  him,  and  the  last 
lingerers  were  now  vanishing  to  the  distant  shadows 
of  the  subterranean  temple.  Though  myriads  had  de 
parted,  many  still  remained — several  of  every  order 
— as  if,  while  their  fellows  were  abroad,  each  fulfill 
ing  his  special  mission,  these  had  some  correspond- 


THE  MANITOU  EYE.  125 

ing  office  to  perform  here  at  home.  Somewhat  apart 
from  the  rest  stood  a  group  arrayed  in  the  skins  of 
bears,  and  among  these  two  who,  by  their  lofty  port 
and  commanding  gestures,  were  evidently  the  king 
and  queen  of  this  strange  realm.  The  aspect  of  the 
king  was  dark  and  stern ;  that  of  the  queen  fair  and 
mild.  The  latter,  as,  indeed,  all  the  other  elfin 
women,  wore  upon  her  head,  instead  of  the  feathered 
coronal,  a  wreath  of  intense  crimson  flowers,  marvel- 
ously  beautiful ;  whence  came  stealing  forth  the  de 
lectable  perfume,  which  the  boy  had  perceived  in 
the  air  from  the  moment  Meg  of  the  Hills  had  made 
her  appearance  the  night  before.  As  he  stood  there, 
surveying  them,  Sprigg  felt  in  his  heart  that  these 
were  the  two  whose  voices  he  had  heard  in  such 
earnest  conference  relative  to  his  particular  case. 

The  young  guest  now  looked  about  him  for  the 
young  bears  with  whom  he  had  slept,  but  not  only 
his  bedfellows,  but  the  bed  itself  had  vanished.  Then 
he  knew  that  they  must  be  among  those  who  wore 
the  skins  of  bears,  and  that,  instead  of  having  been 
littered  with  cubs,  he  had  shared  the  couch  of 
princes. 

In  saying  that  the  magic  coronal  enabled  the 
mortal  who  wore  it  to  see  the  sights  and  hear  the 
sounds  of  Fairyland  as  distinctly  as  the  fairies  them 
selves,  a  slight  mistake  was  made.  Although  he 
could  not  perceive  them,  Sprigg  had  his  reasons  for 
suspecting  that  other  boys,  beside  himself,  were 

9 


126  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

there  in  that  underground  world ;  yes,  and  men,  too. 
Girls  and  women — all  waiting,  like  himself,  to  be  "put 
through,"  though  what  that  might  mean  the  poor 
boy  could,  of  course,  have  little  or  no  conception. 
Invisible  though  these  fellow  mortals  were,  he  could 
see  their  shadows  cast  with  marvelous  distinctness 
upon  the  floor  of  the  temple;  and,  strange  to  say, 
spotted  were  all  these  shadows !  Some  in  a  sitting 
posture,  some  standing,  spme  walking,  some  glid 
ing  swiftly  to  and  fro.  Many,  after  remaining  mo 
tionless  for  a  time,  would,  all  at  once,  begin  dodging, 
skipping,  flitting  about  among  the  columns  in  the 
most  fantastic  manner  imaginable ;  then  would  they 
come  to  a  pause,  and,  after  again  remaining  motion 
less  for  a  brief  space,  suddenly  vanish. 

The  large  majority  of  these  airy  figures  were  not 
sufficiently  marked  for  safe  conjecture  as  to  the 
manner  of  persons  to  whom  they  were  referrable, 
but  many  were  too  apparent  to  be  mistaken.  Some 
stood,  with  magisterial  dignity,  staff  in  hand.  Some, 
with  military  stalk,  moved  slowly  to  and  fro — 
swords,  epaulets,  plumes — all  distinctly  traceable. 
Here  sat  one,  with  the  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown 
upon  his  head;  while  not  far  off,  incongruous,  as  it 
may  seem,  appeared  the  picturesque  silhouette  of  an 
Indian  warrior,  moving  onward  with  a  majestic  pace, 
scalp  lock,  plumed,  bow  in  hand,  quiver  on  shoulder. 

But  it  was  a  spectacle  stranger  still  to  observe 
how  the  elves,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  "Mani- 


THE  MANITOU  EYE.  127 

tous,"  were  busying  themselves  about  these  shadows 
— now  approaching  them,  now  receding  from  them ; 
sometimes  standing  beside  them,  earnestly  gesticu 
lating,  as  if  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  unseen, 
unheard  personages  who  cast  them.  While  watch 
ing  these  mysterious  movements  Sprigg  became  cog 
nizant  of  another  curious  circumstance — the  very 
counterpart  of  the  shadow  mystery.  He  perceived 
that,  while  those  invisible  mortals  were  shadowed 
forth  with  such  distinctness,  the  Manitous  them 
selves,  with  the  light  thrown  full  and  strong  upon 
them,  were  as  shadowless  in  that  light  as  air  itself. 
Noting  this,  he  glanced  upward  to  see  what  manner 
of  light  it  must  be  that  could  shadow  forth  the  un 
seen,  and  shadowless  leave  the  seen.  How  the  boy 
started !  Then  backward  shrank,  till  abruptly 
checked  by  a  column,  against  whose  base,  as  were 
he  an  effigy  carved  upon  it,  he  stood,  gazing  cow- 
eringly  upward.  That  globe  of  living  light  was  a 
living  eye!  An  eye  immensely  large,  of  -calm  and 
terrible  look,  which  Sprigg  felt  to  be  bent  directly 
upon  himself,  piercing  his  very  soul  and  laying  it 
open,  stripped  of  all  disguise.  Though  so  bright  that 
it  illumined  the  vast  temple  to  its  uttermost  bounds, 
that  wondrous  eye  did  not  blind,  nor  even  dazzle, 
the  sight ;  for  it  imparted  to  the  mortal  eye,  that 
need  must  meet  it,  strength  to  bear  its  light  and  be 
hold  the  things  it  would  reveal.  To  have  been  daz 
zled  into  blindness  had  been  far  more  tolerable  than 


128  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

to  endure  that  terrible  scrutiny.  So  felt  the  guilty 
young  human  thing  as,  with  increasing  awe  and 
dread,  he  perceived  that,  while  the  eye  was  never 
turned  from  him,  it  seemed  to  be  watchfully  observ 
ant  of  all  that  was  passing  beneath  it,  however  dis 
tant  the  objects,  diverse,  multitudinous.  No  secret, 
then ;  no  guilty  deed  or  thought,  could  be  hidden  in 
that  light.  The  boy  started !  That  lie  he  had  sent 
back  to  his  mother  as  he  was  slinking  away  from 
home!  Did  the  eye  see  that?  Aye,  and  the  hun 
dred  others  he  had  told,  and  was  showing  upon  his 
soul  a  smutch,  a  smear,  a  spot  for  every  one !  Back, 
again,  he  shrank  and  hid  himself  behind  the  column. 
The  column  was  far  loftier  and  more  massive  than 
those  which  uphold  the  dome  of  mighty  St.  Peter's, 
and  was  hewn  out  from  the  eternal  granite ;  yet  the 
light  of  that  terrible  eye  came  gleaming  through  it, 
as  if  it  had"  been  of  the  clearest  crystal.  He  ran  to 
another,  then  to  a  third,  fourth,  fifth — tenth.  In 
vain!  Interpose  what  he  might,  still  was  it  all  as 
airy  transparency  between  himself  and  that  piercing 
glance.  There  are  X-rays  for  the  soul,  as  well  as 
for  the  body.  He  turned  his  back  upon  it;  there  it 
was  still !  Look  where  he  would — in  the  depths 
above — and  the  eye  was  ever  before  him,  its  calm 
and  terrible  look  unchanged.  Yet  it  did  not  seem 
to  follow  him.  It  was  simply  there!  Everywhere ! 

The  self-convicted  young  offender  was  still  dodg 
ing  and  flitting  about  among  the  columns,  when  the 


THE  MANITOU  EYE.  129 

voice  of  the  Manitou  king — the  first  sound  he  had 
heard  since  the  procession  had  vanished — came  to 
his  ears,  with  the  somewhat  startling  words : 

"Manitou-Echo  and  Will-o'-the-Wisp,  come,  con 
jure  up,  now,  the  red  moccasins'  dream!  By  this 
time  our  light  has  purged  the  young  dreamer's  eyes 
sufficiently  clear  of  the  red  mist  for  him  to  see  what 
stuff  his  dream  is  made  of,  and  to  what  it  is  tending." 

Whereupon  a  bareheaded  elf,  extremely  fantastic 
in  appearance,  yet  beautiful,  too,  and  recognized  afr 
once  by  his  voice,  Manitou-Echo  came  flitting  up  to 
Sprigg,  and,  with  a  bland  smile  and  light  wave  of 
the  hand,  thus  addressed  him: 

"Sprigg,  how  are  you  this  morning?  Fresh  and 
spry?  Glad  to  hear  it.  Our  brave  Sprigg  ran  a 
fine  race  yesterday — splendid!  Everybody  said  so! 
You  shall  run  another  to-day,  if  you  much  desire  it. 
You  have  just  been  playing  at  hide  and  seek,  I  see. 
A  nice  little  game  all  to  yourself.  That's  merry; 
that's  brave !  Everybody  plays  at  hide  and  seek 
who  comes  to  our  house,  and  we  like  to  see  it ;  it 
looks  as  if  our  guests  were  making  themselves  at 
home.  One  would  think  the  old  house  had  been  de 
signed  expressly  for  that  game,  so  many  nooks  and 
crannies  and  other  out-of-the-way  corners  has  it, 
where  everybody  thinks  of  hiding  himself,  and  no 
body  thinks  of  seeking  for  himself.  And,  Sprigg, 
you  would  be  astonished,  were  we  to  tell  you,  who 
have  been  here  before  you!  Still,  still  more  aston- 


130  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

ished,  were  I  to  tell  you  who  are  here  at  this  very 
moment;  all,  like  yourself,  playing  at  hide  and  seek 
with — strange  as  you  may  think  it — their  own  shad 
ows  !  But  no  one  ever  hides  from  his  shadow  here, 
nor  finds  it.  And  why?  Because  the  light  in  which 
his  shadow  is  cast  keeps  continually  before  his  eyes, 
so  that,  let  him  spin  himself  about  as  he  will,  still  is 
his  shadow  ever  behind  him. 

"Doubtless,  we  Manitous  would  play  at  the  same 
game,  and  as  merrily,  too ;  but,  unfortunately,  as  you 
see,  we  have  no  shadows  to  play  with — never  had. 
This  deficiency,  however,  is  to  some  extent  atoned 
for  by  our  being  allowed  to  conjure  with  the  dreams 
and  fancies  of  you  mortals,  in  which  we  find  our  chief 
entertainment,  and  the  wilder  your  dreams,  the  more 
extravagant  your  fancies,  the  finer  our  entertain 
ment. 

"Now,  to  exemplify  the  point  in  question  on  a 
more  diminished  scale,  allow  me  to  present  to  your 
consideration  a  dream,  in  which  I  happen  to  have 
personal  interest.  When  you  have  considered  it  at 
tentively,  will  you  please  favor  me  with  your  opinion 
as  to  the  stuff  it  is  made  of  and  what  it  is  worth. 
Here  it  comes  on  six  legs !  Witness." 

Sprigg  looked.  Incredible !  The  Indian  boy 
and  the  Shetland  pony  displayed  before  his  eyes,  not 
as  a  motionless  picture,  but  as  living,  moving  things 
— careering  'round  and  'round,  within  what  seemed 
a  magnificent  amphitheater,  crowded  with  human 


THE  MANITOU  EYE.  131 

spectators — all  conjured  up  out  of  Manitou  mist. 
Yes,  there  they  were — the  pony  with  a  small,  red 
flag  stuck  in  the  browband  of  his  bridle.  The  boy 
decked  out  in  all  his  Indian  bravery — tomahawk, 
feather  hat,  red  moccasins — executing  a  bewildering 
variety  of  tip-toe,  neck-or-nothing,  superhuman  an 
tics,  along  the  back  and  neck,  over  the  head  and 
tail  of  his  fairy  little  charger.  Anon,  the  wild  young 
equestrian  was  the  Indian  boy  no  longer,  but  the  very 
semblance  of  Sprigg  himself,  throwing  his  red  prede 
cessor  completely  in  the  shade,  as  one  might  well 
infer  from  the  plaudits  of  the  thousands  and  thou 
sands  of  admiring,  astonished  spectators,  all  clap 
ping  their  hands,  waving  their  hats  and  shouting: 
"Hurrah!  hurrah!  Splendid!  splendid!" 

Sprigg  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again.  Just 
the  same.  He  closed  his  eyes;  it  made  no  differ 
ence,  he  could  see  it  as  plainly  through  his  eyelids. 
He  opened  them  again.  His  semblance  was  fading 
into  a  shadow,  so  was  that  of  the  pony — fading  like 
a  cloud  picture  at  sunset.  Nothing  distinctly  visible, 
save  the  red  moccasins,  which,  from  the  last  fading 
outline  of  the  pony's  back,  threw  a  prodigious  sum 
merset,  and  when  they  alighted  upon  the  ground, 
there !  in  them  again,  Sprigg  saw  his  sembfence. 
Manitqus,  temple,  amphiteater— all  had  vanished — 
a  forest  of  lofty  trees  appearing  instead,  through 
whose  glimmer  of  lights  and  shadows  the  boy  now 
saw  himself,  or  rather  his  wraith  running  with  in- 


132  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

credible  swiftness,  and  glancing  furtively  over  his 
shoulder  at  every  bound,  as  if  death  were  a  present 
fear  behind  him ;  life  a  distant  hope  before. 

But  his  pursuers,  who  and  where  are  they?  Ah! 
Yonder  they  come,  and  here  they  are,  and  there 
they  go.  Sweeping  swiftly  onward — a  bear,  a  wolf, 
a  panther  and  a  bison  bull — and  his  pursuers  are 
gaining  upon  him  at  every  bound,  now  treading  upon 
his  very  shadow. 

Meanwhile,  the  real  Sprigg  is  conscious  of  a  pe 
culiar  sensation,  as  if  he  were  moving  glidingly  on 
ward,  borne  along  by  invisible  hands  to  keep  pace 
with,  and  see  the  wild  chase  to  the  end.  The  end 
has  come.  He  sees  his  wraith  stop  suddenly,  poised 
on  the  very  brink  of  a  frightful  precipice,  those  ter 
rible  shapes  behind ;  a  yawning,  mist-hid  gulf  before. 
A  moment,  that  semblance  of  himself  stands  reeling 
on  the  dizzy  verge,  then  flings  away,  or  is  flung  away 
into  the  misty  void !  His  brain  spins  'round  and 
'round ;  sight  and  sensation  forsake  him.  The  boy  has 
swooned  away !  Will  he  be  warned  ?  Let  us  see ! 


THE  MANITOU  RACE.  133 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Manitou  Race. 

Sprigg  awoke.  Bolt  upright,  all  unharmed  he 
found  himself  standing  in  front  of  the  old  hunting 
shanty;  in  the  self-same  sun-spot  where  he  had 
stood  when  his  father  and  Pow-wow,  all  unconscious 
of  his  presence,  had  passed  him  by.  Yes,  and  the 
self-same  hour,  too,  of  the  day,  as  he  could  judge  by 
the  length  of  his  shadow  in  the  sunshine,  which  he 
remembered  as  having  been  traced  on  the  landscape 
at  that  conjuncture.  Was  that  yesterday,  or  the 
moment  gone  but  now?  He  could  not  tell,  so  like 
a  dream  appeared  it  all.  He  ran  his  eyes  along  the 
buffalo-trace,  that  led  in  the  direction  of  home,  half 
expecting  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  his  father's 
retreating  figure.  Thus  he  stood,  for  many  mo 
ments,  in  a  state  of  dreamy  bewilderment,  gazing 
about  him  far  and  wide,  until  his  wondering  thoughts 
and  wandering  eyes  reverted  directly  to  his  personal 
self.  He  looked  down;  his  feet  were  bare.  Where 
were  the  red  moccasins  ?  Red  moccasins !  They 
were  but  a  part  of  the  dream;  or,  rather,  the  very 
master-fancy  of  it — the  incubus !  Never  had  he  seen 
such  things  in  bodily  form.  Assuredly,  he  must  be 
at  home,  aflat  of  his  back  on  the  floor,  asleep  and 
dreaming. 


134  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

He  was  still  looking  about  him,  trying  to  make 
something  of  his  strange  experiences,  when  his  eye 
was  caught  by  a  glitter  and  a  gleam  in  the  grass, 
which  caused  him  to  spring  affrightedly  backward, 
as  from  the  glittering  eye  and  gleaming  crest  of  a 
rattlesnake.  But  no  serpent  was  there.  The  more 
the  pity !  Only  the  red  moccasins,  adjusted  side  by 
side,  with  their  old  air  of  easy  self-assurance,  and 
now  in  open  view  before  him.  Yet,  but  the  moment 
previous  his  look  had  chanced  to  be  resting  on  that 
very  spot,  and  naught  but  the  tufted  grass  had  he 
seen  there !  With  their  familiar  sheen  in  his  eyes, 
all  came  flashing  back  to  his  memory — the  terrors 
of  Manitou  hill,  the  wonders  of  Manitou  cave.  Yet 
what  assurance  had  he  that  these  things  also  were 
not  dreams?  Let  all  the  rest  be  as  unreal  as  it 
might,  the  red  moccasins  were  there  in  bodily  form, 
and  his  own  identical  pair,  too,  as  he  could  easily 
distinguish  by  a  certain  peculiar  token,  which  was 
wanting  in  those  he  had  seen  on  the  feet  of  the  elves. 
Upon  all  of  theirs,  between  toe  and  instep,  was  the 
figure  of  an  arrow  traced  in  blood-red  beads.  Upon 
his  own  was  the  same  figure,  thrust  through  that  of 
a  human  heart,  but  the  whole  device  wrought  in 
colorless  beads.  As  he  stood  there  gazing  upon 
them,  a  twinkling  light  came  glancing  out  of  their 
beads,  which  met  his  look  amazingly  like  a  smile  of 
familiar  recognition.  Then  came  it  again,  stealing 
upon  his  ear,  that  sound,  or  fancy,  so  like  a  voice ; 


THE  MANITOTJ  EACE.  135 

but  whence,  whether  from  the  moccasins,  or  from 
some  airy  tongue,  or  from  his  own  heart,  perplexed 
him  as  much  as  ever  to  decide. 

"Our  brave  Sprigg,  in  a  pet  of  wrath,  flung  us  from 
him  up  there  on  Manitou  hill.  He  thought  that  we 
had  deceived  him.  He  had  only  deceived  himself. 
So  bemisted  were  his  eyes  from  gazing,  and  gazing, 
and  gazing  at  us,  that  he  could  see  nothing  as  it 
really  was.  Therefore,  without  being  aware  of  it, 
he  passed  on  directly  by  his  grandpap's  house ;  di 
rectly  by  young  Ben  Logan's  house;  directly  by 
pretty  little  Bertha  Bryant's  house — the  very  places 
whither  he  was  so  bent  upon  going  when  he  set  out 
from  home.  Now,  at  any  of  these  houses  we  should 
have  been  perfectly  willing  to  stop,  at  pretty  little 
Bertha's  in  particular,  only  he  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  turn  our  toes  that  way,  but  went  on,  and  went  on, 
and  never  stopped  going,  until  the  first  thing  he 
knew  he  found  himself  lost.  Whose  fault  ?  Sprigg's ; 
nobody's  but  Sprigg's.  Yet  he  blamed  us  for  it; 
blamed  us  for  keeping  along  with  his  feet!  What 
else  could  we  do?  We  can't  walk  backward;  we 
can't  walk  sideways — never  could.  We  can  only 
follow  our  toes,  and  their  course  is  determined  by 
the  feet  that  are  in  us.  Right  their  course,  right  ours. 
Then  to  fling  us  from  him,  like  a  pair  of  slip-shod 
shoes,  when  we  had  done  our  very  best  to  speed  him 
on  his  way!  Thus  spiting  his  toes  by  biting  his 
nose,  as  the  bull  and  the  cat  and  the  wolf  soon 


136  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

showed  him.  Had  he  kept  us  under  him,  we  could 
have  kept  him  at  easy  distance  from  the  monsters 
and  made  ourselves  merry  at  their  expense.  But, 
as  it  was,  we  could  only  stand  by  and  kick  them  out 
of  the  way,  whenever  they  came  uncomfortably  near ; 
and  precious  little  thanks  we  got  for  it,  too !  But 
here  we  are,  ready  and  willing  as  ever  to  serve  our 
young  master,  his  whole-souled  friends  to  the  last ! 
"Sprigg,  this  old  hunting  shanty,  as  you  know, 
stands  exactly  midway  between  your  pap's  house 
and  your  grandpap's  house.  There's  the  road  home ; 
you  know  every  crook  and  turn  of  it  as 'well  as  we. 
You  are  free,  perfectly  free,  to  go  that  way  if  you 
prefer  it ;  we  shall  say  nothing,  do  nothing  to  hinder 
you ;  only,  if  you  choose  that  road,  you  shall  have  to 
travel  it  without  our  good  help,  without  our  pleasant 
company,  barefooted — ugly  hills,  cutting  stones, 
scratching  briars,  piercing  thorns !  There's  the 
road  to  grandpap's  house — level  and  smooth,  shady 
and  pleasant !  You  may  not  know  every  crook  and 
turn  of  it  as  well  as  you  do  of  the  other,  that  is  true ; 
but  we  do,  so  what's  the  difference?  We  can  take 
you  thither,  be  assured ;  and  that,  too,  by  set  of  sun, 
just  at  the  time  when  Ben  Logan,  the  bold  young 
hunter,  shall  be  coming  home  from  the  forest  with 
the  spoils  of  the  chase;  just  as  Bertha  Bryant,  the 
pretty  little  milkmaid,  shall  be  coming  home  from 
the  bluegrass  glades  with  the  cows.  Then  shall  they 
see  us  and  admire  us — you  and  your  beautiful  shoes 


THE  MANITOU  RACE.  137 

— admire  us,  fit  to  die — the  boy  of  envy,  the  girl  of 
love !  Only,  you  must  have  a  care,  Sprigg,  to  keep 
your  eyes  clear  of  the  red  mist,  else  you  will  go  a- 
gawking  by  them,  as  you  did  yesterday  evening, 
when,  off  we  are  kicked  again,  like  a  pair  of  slip 
shod  shoes. 

"Yes,  Sprigg  prefers  that  road,  and  so  do  we; 

suits  him  better,  suits  us  better,  for  we  never  turn 

back,  nor  does  a  brave  boy !     And  Sprigg  is  a  brave 

boy!     Who  said  our  Sprigg  was  not  a  brave  boy? 

.  On  with  us,  then,  and  away !" 

The  boy  was  again  bewitched.  His  old  love  had 
returned  upon  him  with  exaggerated  force.  He 
seated  himself  upon  a  stone,  and  placed  the  mocca 
sins  down  on  the  grass  before  him,  their  eye-like 
beads  all  atwinkle,  as  with  conscious  light.  Hark ! 
What  is  that?  Those  mysterious  sounds  again,  so 
like  the  murmuring,  whispering  voices,  which  had 
been  haunting  the  air  around  him  ever  since  his  leav 
ing  home. 

Sternly.  "Home,  false  boy!  Home  to  your 
father-er-er-er-er !"' 

Softly.  "Home,  poor  child;  home  to  your 
mother-er-er-er !" 

'Twas  but  the  whispering  wind,  with  leaves  for 
lips.  Only  the  murmuring  brook,  with  echoes  for 
words.  Wind  can  whisper  and  wail ;  water  can  mur 
mur  and  laugh. 

The  boy  took  one  of  the  moccasins  in  his  hands, 


138  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

a  thumb  and  two  fingers  on  each  side;  yet  still  he 
hesitated — that  terrible  Manitou  eye ! !  Might  it  not 
be  as  present  in  the  depths  of  the  sky  above  as  he 
had  seen  it  in  the  depths  of  the  earth  beneath,  and 
at  that  very  moment  looking  as  piercingly  through 
his  secret  soul?  He  was  on  the  point  of  dropping 
the  moccasins,  when  a  jay-bird  in  the  nearest  tree 
before  him,  and  a  red-bird  in  the  nearest  tree  behind 
him  began  chattering  in  a  noisy,  commonplace, 
wide-awake  way,  which  made  him  laugh  and  say  to 
himself : 

"Foolish  boy !  Thus  to  sit  listening  to  water  and 
wind,  and  the  lengthening  shadows  telling  how 
swiftly  the  day  is  waning !  On  with  the  moccasins ! 
Up  and  away!"  And  on  they  were  in  a  twinkling. 
But  now  they  were  on,  why  was  the  boy  not  up  and 
away?  There  he  still  sat,  his  eyes  fastened  upon  the 
red  temptations,  bigger  with  wonder  than  ever  be 
fore  !  The  colorless  beads,  describing  the  arrow  and 
heart,  had  grown,  in  an  instant,  red  as  blood. 

"Bleed,  poor  heart !  bleed !"  cried  a  soft  voice 
close  beside  him.  "Bleed !  or  be  to  your  mother  for 
ever  a  sorrow!" 

"Bleed,  false  heart!  bleed!"  cried  a  stern  voice 
close  behind  him.  "Bleed !  or  be  to  your  father  for 
ever  a  curse !  You  have  chosen !  Abide  by  your 
choice!  Up  and  away!" 

With  a  high  spring,  the  moccasins  lifted  their 
wearer  bodily  up  from  the  ground,  and  began  exe- 


THE  MANITOU  RACE.  139 

cuting  a  variety  of  fantastic  antics,  as  completely 
foreign  to  any  design  or  will  on  the  part  of  the  boy 
as  if  he  had  been  but  a  wire-worked  puppet.  Where 
at  peals  of  elfish  laughter  came  ringing  out,  with  ex 
plosive  abruptness,  from  every  side — from  the  leafy 
heart  of  the  forest,  from  the  rocky  breast  of  the  hill, 
from  the  empty  depths  of  the  sky,  from  the  solid 
depths  of  the  earth — wild  and  mocking  laughter, 
mingled  with  cries  of  "Put  him  through!  Put  him 
through!"  Then,  as  suddenly,  the  laughter  ceased, 
when,  with  a  hop,  step  and  prodigious  jump,  by 
way  of  a  start,  the  red  moccasins  bounded  off 
through  the  forest,  no  more  to  be  guided  or  curbed 
than  the  feet  of  a  wild  and  unbridled  horse.  Through 
darksome  wood  and  glimmering  glade,  over  rugged 
hill  and  tangled  vale,  with  incredible  swiftness  sped 
they  on;  nor  turned  aside  for  bramble  covert  or 
reedy  brake,  but  right  through  the  thick  of  them 
dashed,  till  the  boy  was  covered  with  scratches  from 
head  to  foot,  and  his  garments  all  torn  into  rags. 

"Stop !  stop !  I  pray  you,  stop !"  cried  poor 
Sprigg,  in  piteous  accent,  at  every  new  peril  which 
seemed  to  threaten  his  destruction.  At  length,  as  if 
in  spite,  the  moccasins  stopped,  so  abruptly  that  he 
was  thrown  forward  upon  the  ground,  with  a  vio 
lence  that  left  him  stunned  for  several  moments. 
Then,  with  hands  that  shook,  did  he  assay  to  free 
himself  from  the  accursed  things.  Too  late ;  they 
clung  to  his  feet,  as  if  they  had  grown  to  the  flesh,  • 


140  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

and  the  harder  he  tugged  at  them  the  closer  they 
clung.  In  fear  and  rage  he  stamped  with  them  upon 
the  ground,  and  they,  in  revenge,  squeezed  and 
pinched  his  toes,  till  he  screamed  outright  with  the 
pain  inflicted.  Then,  again,  they  were  off  at  the  same 
wild  speed,  and  with  no  more  regard  for  any  pur 
pose  or  wish  of  his  than  had  he  been  but  a  dead  load 
in  them,  and  they  had  taken  into  themselves  all  part 
of  his  life  and  all  his  will. 

By  and  by,  of  their  own  accord,  the  moccasins 
came  to  a  halt;  and  weary  and  faint,  and  sick  unto 
death,  our  unfortunate  little  hero  threw  himself  down 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree  to  die.  But  scarcely  had  he 
stretched  himself  along  the  ground,  when  his  ear 
was  caught,  first,  by  a  rude  roar,  a  far  way  off  in  the 
forest ;  then  by  a  hoarse  howl ;  then  by  a  shrill 
scream ;  then  by  a  gruff  growl ;  and  now,  nearer  at 
hand  the  roar,  the  howl,  the  scream,  the  growl — all 
heard  at  once  in  a  savage  chorus.  He  knew  them 
but  too  well,  and  their  sound  struck  a  terror  into  his 
heart,  which  even  the  thought  of  approaching  death 
had  not  awakened.  Up  again  he  sprang,  exhausted 
as  he  was,  to  fly  for  the  life  which,  but  the  moment 
before,  he  would  fain  have  resigned.  As  he  turned 
to  flee  he  threw  a  fearful  glance  behind  him,  and 
through  the  chinks  of  the  forest  caught  sight  of  a 
bear,  a  panther,  a  wolf  and  a  bison  bull,  coming 
swiftly  on  and  making  directly  toward  him.  For 
more  than  this  he  waited  not,  but,  with  a  despairing 


THE  MANITOU  RACE.  141 

cry  to  his  father  for  help ;  to  his  mother  for — it  were 
hard  to  say  what — away  he  sped,  as  if  his  mocca 
sins  had  taken  the  wings  of  the  wind. 

Through  darksome  wood  and  glimmering  glade, 
over  rugged  hill  and  tangled  vale,  the  Manitou  race 
went  on — the  sky  all  blue  and  serene  above  them; 
the  setting  sun  all  bright  and  smiling  before  them. 
At  every  fearful  glance  cast  behind  him  the  young 
fugitive  could  perceive  that  his  pursuers  were  gain 
ing  upon  him.  Anon,  they  were  so  close  upon  him 
that  he  could  see  their  eyes,  glaring  like  balls  of  fire. 
And  now  were  they  treading  upon  his  very  shadow, 
their  smoking  breath  blown  hot  upon  his  ears  and 
neck.  Again  went  up  the  despairing  cry  to  father; 
to  mother.  And  they  did  hear  it ;  would  have  heard 
it  had  they  been  in  their  graves ! 

The  cry  was  still  in  the  air,  when  a  young  bear 
shot  forward,  wheeled  about,  and  rearing  himself  up 
square  before  him,  snatched  his  cap  from  his  head. 
His  cap  was  still  in  the  air,  when  it  was  replaced  by 
a  green  coronal,  at  whose  magic  touch  the  whole 
scene  assumed  at  once  a  totally  different  aspect.  The 
grisly  shape  before  him  was  not  a  rampant  bear,  but 
Manitou-Echo  himself,  bareheaded,  somewhat  ex 
cited,  but  not  in  the  least  degree  short  of  breath. 
His  other  pursuers,  appearing  now  in  their  true 
shapes  to  the  fugitive,  proved  also  to  be  but  elves, 
each  wearing  the  skin  of  the  beast,  whose  whole  like 
ness  he  wore  but  now,  and  showing  an  aspect,  wild 
10 


142  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

and  savage  enough,  yet  which  would  not  have  been 
unbeautiful  to  innocent  eyes.  With  a  bland  smile 
and  light  wave  of  the  hand,  thus  speaks  Manitou- 
Echo: 

"Bravely  done,  Sprigg!  Bravely  done!  You 
have  run  a  magnificent  race !  We  never  saw  a  young 
human  thing  acquit  himself  in  handsomer  style! 
Why,  sir,  we  were  beginning  to  think  your  shadow 
was  all  we  were  likely  to  catch!  But  here  we  are, 
one  and  all,  coming  out  at  the  goal  at  the  same  in 
stant!  That's  brave!  We  promised  to  speed  you 
on,  and  show  you  in  style  to  grandpap's  house  by  set 
of  sun!  And  like  true  Manitous,  too,  have  we  kept 
our  word!  You  can't  deny  it!  Nobody  can! 
Look!" 

Sprigg  looked.  The  Manitou  race,  after  stretch 
ing  its  length  for  many  a  zig-zag  mile,  had  brought 
them  to  the  hour  of  sunset,  and  to  the  top  of  the 
lofty  hill,  where  stood  the  small  stockade  fort,  under 
the  shelter  of  whose  wooden  walls  his  grandfather 
and  the  other  pioneers  had  established  their  cabin 
homes.  But  these,  with  the  loving  human  hearts  he 
had  trusted  to  find  there,  were  now  behind  him,  ut 
terly  beyond  his  reach.  Out  before  him  was  a  depth 
of  airy  emptiness !  Down  beneath  him — horrible ! 
A  tremendous  precipice,  and  his  feet  o"n  the  very 
brink !  Back  he  shrank,  aghast !  But  the  elves  were 
behind  him !  His  brain  spun  'round !  The  mystic 
coronal  was  snatched  from  his  head.  The  next  in- 


THE  MANITOTJ  RACE.  143 

stant  the  Manitou  moccasins,  with  a  wild  leap,  sheer 
over  the  dizzy  verge,  had  flung  him  away,  like  a 
waif!  Down  the  frightful  declivity,  whirling,  he 
went,  dropping  from  ledge  to  ledge  like  a  lifeless 
lump,  whirling  and  dropping,  till  into  the  dusky 
depths  of  the  forest  that  shagged  the  foot  of  the  hill 
he  rolled  and  vanished.  And  peals  of  elfin  laughter ; 
weird  and  mocking  laughter,  beginning  at  the  brink 
of  the  steep,  far  up  there,  and  keeping  pace  with 
the  whirling  body,  now  in  the  edge  of  the  wood,  far 
down  there,  subsiding  into  an  elfin  wail,  a  weird  and 
pitying  wail,  then  suddenly  ceased.  A  dell,  it  was, 
where  echoes  were  wont  to  linger  and  answer  each 
other ;  but  never  an  echo  lingered  now  to  lead  in  the 
deathlike  silence  that  settled  at  once  on  the  glim 
mering  evening  scene. 


144  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Missed. 

With  Pow-wow,  now  before  him,  now  behind 
him,  trotting  out  many  a  short,  irrelevant  digression 
from  their  general  course,  Jervis  Whitney,  rifle  on 
shoulder,  came  trudging  cheerfully  homeward,  all 
unwitting  of  the  young  feet  that  had  met  him,  the 
young  eyes  that  had  seen  him,  the  young  ears  that 
had  heard  him — heard  the  very  rustling  of  his  gar 
ments — far  back  yonder  in  the  heart  of  the  lonely 
forest !  He  was  still  a  half  mile  or  more  from  home 
— the  bright  June  afternoon  by  this  time  wearing  an 
evening  cast — when  from  among  the  trees  a  little  way 
off  to  one  side,  the  voice  of  Elster  reached  his  ear, 
calling  Sprigg  in  a  tone  of  anxiety  and  alarm.  Sur 
prised  to  find  his  wife  so  far  from  the  house,  and  evi-, 
dently  in  quest  of  their  boy,  Jervis,  somewhat 
alarmed  himself,  hastened  forward  to  meet  her  and 
inquire  into  the  occasion  of  so  unwonted  a  circum 
stance. 

"Ah!  dear  Jervis!"  cried  she,  with  tearful  eyes 
and  tremulous  voice,  while  yet  her  husband  was 
coming,  "You  are  returning,  and  our  boy  not  with 
you !  I  was  hoping  he  might  have  heard  the  report 
of  your  rifle  or  Pow-wow's  bark  and  had  gone  forth 


MISSED.  145 

to  meet  you,  as  he  often  delights  in  doing!"  Then 
she  went  on  to  tell  how  Sprigg,  about  I  o'clock,  had 
left  the  house  to  fetch  a  pail  of  water  from  their 
favorite  but  more  distant  spring,  down  there  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods.  Her  mind  becoming  wholly  oc 
cupied  with  her  work  at  the  loom,  she  had  quite  lost 
sight  of  the  little  circumstance,  when,  all  at  once,  it 
had  struck  her  that  it  had  now  been  several  hours 
since  Sprigg  had  left  the  house,  nor  had  yet  re 
turned.  Whereat  she  had  left  off  her  weaving  and 
gone  forth  to  see  what  had  become  of  him.  She 
had  searched  the  clearing  all  around  the  house,  and 
the  woods  all  around  the  clearing ;  yet  not  a  trace  of 
him  had  she  discovered,  saving  the  empty  bucket  at 
the  spring. 

By  the  time  the  story  was  ended,  which  she  told 
with  many  an  anxious  detail,  they  had  passed  on  by 
the  house  and  reached  the  spring.  In  the  course  of 
the  day's  chase  the  hunter  had  come  upon  a  fresh 
Indian  trail,  which  made  him  at  first  apprehensive 
that  the  boy,  while  thus  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of 
home,  might  have  been  crept  upon  and  captured  by 
some  lurking  band  of  savages.  But  there  were  no 
traces  at  the  spring,  nor  near  it,  to  justify  his  appre 
hension  ;  nor  yet  that  of  his  having  fallen  a  prey  to 
wild  beasts — the  two  sources  of  danger  being,  in 
those  days,  always  coupled  in  the  minds  of  our  pio 
neer  progenitors.  The  prints  of  the  boy's  bare  feet 
were  plainly  enough  to  be  seen  in  the  path  that  led 


146  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

down  the  hill;  but  here,  at  the  spring,  without  any 
sign  of  their  having  retraced  themselves,  they  sud 
denly  vanished.  For  once  the  hunter's  clear-seeing 
eye  and  his  dog's  keen-scenting  nose  were  utterly 
baffled.  Those  Manitou  moccasins  being,  as  you 
must  remember,  charmed,  could  be  worn  and  leave 
no  trace  of  their  wearer  behind  them  that  sight  of 
man  or  scent  of  dog  could  discern,  be  it  footprint 
on  the  ground  or  odor  in  the  air.  What  manner  of 
disappearance  might  this  be? 

All  in  a  state  of  wonderment  now,  as  well  as  dis 
tress,  they  hastened  back  to  the  house,  if,  happily, 
some  nook  or  corner  had  been  overlooked,  where 
the  boy  had  lain  down  and  fallen  asleep.  They  were 
pursuing  this  forlorn  hope,  when  Elster  found  her 
self  standing,  without  any  will  or  volition  of  her  own, 
directly  in  front  of  the  old  show  bill,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  it,  as  if  it  had  been  an  object  she  had 
never  seen  there  before.  Then  it  all  came  back  to 
her  mind,  how  that  picture  of  the  Indian  boy  and 
his  Shetland  pony  had  charmed  Sprigg's  fancy  and 
set  him  to  dreaming  about  red  moccasins,  and  how 
strangely  the  whim  had  possessed  him  to  go  to  the 
settlement,  where  he  might  make  a  display  of  his 
fantastic  finery.  This  she  told  Jervis,  and  together 
they  ran  to  the  chest  to  see  if  the  moccasins  were 
really  playing  a  part  in  the  mysterious  matter. 

Pale  as  death  turned  Jervis  Whitney  when  he  dis 
covered  they  were  gone.  Backward  the  strong  man 


MISSED.  147 

staggered  some  paces,  as  had  he  been  struck  on  the 
breast  by  a  heavy  fist,  and,  sinking  down  upon  an 
oaken  settee,  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  horrified  aston 
ishment  : 

"Oh,  Nick  of  the  Woods !  Nick  of  the  Woods  !" 
That  elfin  scene  in  the  forest  had  come  flashing  back 
to  his  memory,  like  a  prophetic  dream,  the  interpre 
tation  whereof  was  now  to  be  looked  for.  "My  son 
Manitou-Echo  is  burning  to  run  a  race  with  your 
son  Sprigg."  Thus  had  spoken  the  Manitou  king; 
and  fantastic  as  the  words  had  seemed  at  the  time, 
evident  enough  was  it  now  that,  couched  in  them, 
was  a  meaning  or  purpose  deeper  by  far  than  the 
hunter  had  divined.  Perhaps  the  trial  of  bodily 
strength,  or  moral  virtue,  or  whatever  it  was,  at 
which  they  hinted,  had  already  begun ;  and  their  boy 
now  the  subject  of  some  elfish  freak  for  his  follies,  or 
the  victim  of  some  elfish  retributions  for  his  trans 
gressions. 

Elster  stood  gazing  down  on  her  husband,  where, 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  he  sat,  repeating 
the  singular  exclamation  which  had  escaped  him  on 
finding  the  moccasins  missing.  As  yet,  for  some 
whimsical,  elf-prompted  reason  or  other,  Jervis  had 
told  her  nothing  of  his  interview  with  Nick  of  the 
Woods,  and  whenever  she  had  questioned  him  touch 
ing  the  moccasins  he  had  answered  that  they  had 
been  sent  to  their  boy  from  Fairyland,  thus  dodg 
ing  the  truth  by  telling  the  literal  fact,  knowing  that 


148  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

she  would  treat  it  as  a  pleasantry.  She  was  begin 
ning  to  fear  that  the  stroke  had  proved  too  much  for 
the  poor  man's  strength  of  mind,  when,  after  remain 
ing  quite  silent  for  some  moments,  he  raised  his 
head,  and  looking  at  her  sorrowfully  but  calmly 
enough,  addressed  her: 

"Dear  Elster,  I  have  not  broken  my  fast  since 
morning.  Let  me  have  something  to  eat  and  I  will 
set  out  for  the  fort  at  once.  It  is  but  four  or  five 
miles  to  the  nearest  house  on  the  way,  and  you  can 
easily  walk  with  me  that  far,  there  to  remain  until 
my  return.  At  present  I  see  not  what  better  course 
is  left  us  to  follow." 

A  cold  supper  was  set  before  him  at  once.  While 
he  was  eating  it  Elster  went  and  busied  herself  about 
the  house,  preparatory  to  their  departure.  The  meal 
was  soon  dispatched,  and  when  he  had  looked  care 
fully  to  his  rifle  and  hunting  accoutrements,  to  re 
assure  himself  that  all  was  in  good  order  for  service, 
Jervis  went  to  assist  his  wife  in  making  such  dispo 
sition  of  their  little  household  concerns  as  their  ab 
sence  should  render  necessary.  To  his  surprise,  he 
found  her  preparing  to  accompany  him  all  the  way. 

"Hardly,  dear  Elster!"  said  he.  The  horses  have 
leaped  the  fence  and  strayed  out  into  the  woods,  so 
that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  go  afoot,  and  for  you  to 
walk  with  me  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  Twenty 
long  miles — many  of  them  rough  and  steep,  all  of 
them  dark  and  dangerous !  You  could  hardly  en 
dure  it  to  the  end." 


MISSED.  149 

"If  the  child  has  walked  it,"  rejoined  Elster,  "so 
may  the  mother ;  and  if  he  has  not,  and  is  lost  to  us 
forever,  then  this  lonely  house  is  our  home  no 
longer !  I  return  to  it  no  more." 

Though  of  a  gentle  and  yielding  nature  under  or 
dinary  circumstances,  Elster  could  meet  a  great  trial, 
like  the  present  one,  with  a  spirit  firm  and  courage 
ous  enough ;  and  knowing  this,  her  husband  forbore 
any  further  remonstrance  to  her  determination.  The 
sun  had  set  and  the  moon  was  rising,  when,  having 
made  their  solitary  dwelling  as  secure  as  possible, 
they  set  out  on  their  melancholy  journey.  In  those 
days  the  buffalo  traces,  as  they  were  called,  formed 
the  only  highways  of  the  wilderness,  and  the  one  our 
poor  friends  were  now  following  led,  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  way,  through  a  dense  and  tangled  forest, 
where  the  moonlight  showed  itself  only  in  straggling 
beams  and  shed  but  a  ghostly  glimmer.  At  inter 
vals  the  sombre  wildness  of  the  scene  would  be  re 
lieved  by  a  bluegrass  glade,  all  agleam  with  moon 
beams  and  glistering  dew  drops,  saving  where 
flecked  with  the  shadows  of  clumped  or  scattered 
trees.  Pleasing,  however,  as  was  the  contrast  they 
presented  to  the  savage  solitudes  around  them,  these 
bright  spots  left  upon  the  spirit  an  impression  of 
sadness  quite  peculiar.  Each  had  so  much  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  well  kept  park  or  woodland  pasture 
that  the  lonely  wayfarers  would  sometimes  find 
themselves  all  but  expecting  that  the  next  turn  of  the 


150  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

road  would  bring  them  in  sight  of  the  stately  man 
sion  or  comfortable  farmhouse  to  which  these  beau 
tiful  grounds  pertained.  Nothing  of  the  kind  ap 
pearing  there,  the  spot,  from  the  very  suggestive- 
ness  of  the  homelike,  would  seem  to  them  more  des 
olate  than  the  most  unhomelike  parts  of  the  forest. 
Often  would  they  pause  and  call  out  loudly  the 
name  of  their  boy ;  the  bare  possibility  that  he  might 
be  near  and  hear  them  seemed  too  precious  to  be 
slighted.  Saving  this,  and,  from  time  to  time,  an 
inquiry  of  affectionate  solicitude  on  the  part  of  -the 
husband,  with  the  wife's  answer  of  patient  reassur 
ance  that  she  was  not  weary,  the  two  poor  hearts 
pursued  their  way  in  silence.  In  the  course  of  every 
four  or  five  miles  they  would  come  to  a  solitary 
cabin  home  like  their  own,  where  they  would  stop 
and  rouse  the  sleeping  inmates,  to  inquire  if  aught 
had  been  seen  there  of  their  boy.  Twice  or  thrice 
they  heard,  a  far  way  off  in  the  darkness,  sounds 
that  came  to  their  troubled  ears  like  the  cries  of  a 
child  in  distress  or  terror.  But  when  they  had 
paused  to  listen,  and  had  sent  the  name  of  their 
loved  one  ringing  far  and  wide,  naught  had  heard 
they,  but  the  screaming  of  a  night  bird  wheeling  high 
aloft,  or,  peradventure,  the  distant  howling  of  a  wolf 
abroad  on  his  nightly  foray.  At  such  times,  with  a 
look  of  dumb,  distressed  perplexity,  first  up  into  their 
faces,  then  all  around  him,  old  Pow-wow  would  give 
a  plaintive  whine,  as  if  fully  conscious  that  all  was 


MISSED.  151 

not  going  well  with  his  human  friends,  and  that  this 
unwonted  journey  had  a  sad  reference,  in  some  way, 
to  his  little  master.  Sometimes  dropping  down  upon 
his  haunches  in  the  path,  some  distance  in  advance, 
and  turning  his  muzzle  pitifully  up  to  the  moon,  the 
affectionate  old  fellow  would  howl  outright,  long 
and  loud,  nor  leaving  off  until  his  master  and  mis 
tress  were  well  up  with  him  again.  Thus,  in  his  poor, 
dumb  way,  would  Pow-wow  testify  that  he  was  their 
fellow-sufferer,  grieving  and  sympathizing  with  them 
and  longing  so  earnestly  to  do  something  to  help  and 
comfort  them — only  but  show  poor  dog  how  he 
might  set  about  it. 


152  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Pow-"Wow  Finds  Him. 

The  gray  dawn  was  beginning  to  take  the  sun- 
red  glow  of  morning,  when,  quite  worn  out  with  so 
long  a  walk,  the  anxious  parents  arrived  at  the 
stockade  station — the  center  and  rallying  point  of 
the  settlements  in  that  quarter  of  Kentucky.  They 
had  been  indulging  themselves  in  the  forlorn  hope 
that  their  boy,  by  some  strange  chance,  might  pos 
sibly  have  found  his  way  to  that  place ;  but  this  van 
ished  with  the  first  look  of  wondering  inquiry  that 
greeted  their  coming.  Though  no  tongue  could 
give  them  any  tidings  of  the  lost  one,  kind  and  sym 
pathetic  hearts  were  there  for  comfort,  with  willing 
hands  and  swift  feet  for  help.  Among  the  latter 
were  several  hunters,  cunning  in  woodcraft,  who 
could  follow  a  trail,  whether  of  man  or  beast,  the 
livelong  day ;  and  over  ground  where  nothing  might 
be  distinguished  by  the  inexperienced  eye  but  grass 
or  leaves,  sand,  pebbles  or  solid  rock. 

Forth  on  the  humane  errand  they  sped  them,  one 
and  all,  some  to  the  northward,  some  to  the  south 
ward;  many  to  the  eastward,  but  none  to  the  west 
ward.  The  little  runaway's  starting  point  had  been 
in  the  East ;  he  might  have  strayed  away  toward  the 


POW-WOW  FINDS  HIM.  153 

North  or  toward  the  South,  but  it  seemed  hardly 
possible  that  he  could  have  passed  on  by  toward  the 
West.  They  little  imagined  how  far  the  wayward 
young  feet  had  followed  the  setting  sun ! 

All  day  long  they  beat  the  tangled  wilds.  Of 
savage  beasts,  traces,  more  than  enough,  could  they 
find,  turn  whither  they  might;  and  of  savage  men, 
two  or  three  recent  trails,  one  of  them  leading  di 
rectly  across  the  buffalo  highway  that  traversed  the 
forest  between  the  settlements  and  Whitney's  dis 
tant  cabin.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  questers  be 
gan  returning  to  the  fort,  dropping  in,  weary  and 
disheartened,  one  after  one.  Some  had  pushed  the 
search  to  the  very  threshold  of  the  deserted  home, 
and  had  observed  how  the  boy's  footprints,  after 
tracing  themselves  along  the  path  down  the  hillside, 
suddenly  vanished,  there  at  the  spring,  and  never  a 
sign  anear  the  spot  of  living  things  besides,  which 
could  suggest  an  explanation  of  the  mystery.  What 
manner  of  disappearance  might  this  be? 

That  morning,  after  having  snatched  a  brief  re 
pose  from  the  fatigues  of  a  day's  chase  and  a  night's 
journey,  Jervis  Whitney  had  started  forth  for  a  few 
hours  after  the  rest  to  renew  the  search,  taking  leave 
of  Elster  at  the  fort  gate.  At  sunset  he  returned, 
purposing  that,  if  no  tidings  had  been  gathered,  to 
beat  the  forest  toward  the  West  until  dark.  He 
found  his  wife  where  he  had  left  her — where,  indeed, 
she  had  remained  through  all  the  weary,  dreary  in- 


154  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

tervening  hours — waiting  and  watching  for  his  re 
turn.  As  the  questers  had  come  dropping  in,  she 
had  read  in  each  dejected  face  the  answer  to  the 
question  which  her  own  had  ceased  to  ask.  She  has 
tened  forth  to  meet  her  husband,  and  as  he  sadly, 
tenderly  folded  her  in  his  arms,  she  laid  her  head 
upon  his  rugged  breast,  and  gave  her  pent-up  sorrow 
relief  in  tears.  But  scarcely  had  her  tears  begun  to 
flow,  when  suddenly  she  checked  them,  and  with  sin 
gular  decision  in  manner  and  voice,  exclaimed : 

"Come,  Jervis !     Come  !" 

"Whither,  dear  Elster?" 

"I  know  not,"  replied  she.  "I  have  heard  no 
voice,  yet  I  feel  that  we  are  called !  Come !" 

They  went  at  once,  as  in  obedience  to  a  summons, 
which  must  be  answered  then  or  never.  They  went 
as  led  by  a  hand,  which,  to  resist,  were  to  tempt  their 
own  destruction.  They  saw  themselves  drawing — 
felt  themselves  drawn  toward  that  side  of  the  hill 
where,  not  a  stone's  throw  in  the  rear  of  the  fort,  it 
abruptly  ended  in  the  lofty  precipice,  before  men 
tioned.  A  few  steps  more  and  their  feet  had  been 
on  the  very  verge,  when,  between  it  and  themselves, 
rang  out  a  cry  of  thrilling  horror,  followed  by  peals 
of  wild,  unearthly  laughter,  which,  beginning  at  the 
brow  of  the  steep,  swiftly  descended  along  its  sides, 
till  in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  afar  down  there,  they 
subsided  into  a  wild,  unearthly  wail.  Then  in  a  mo 
ment  all  was  still — not  a  teli-tale  echo  awaking  to 


'  POW-WOW  FINDS  HIM.  155 

help  the  listening  ear  to  determine  what  manner  of 
sounds  had  broken  the  silence. 

Harrowed  with  horror  and  anguish,  Jervis  and 
Elster  stood,  and  with  no  more  power  to  move  from 
the  spot  than  the  senseless  stones  that  lay  around 
them.  Not  a  sign  of  life  had  they  seen,  where  sounds 
of  life  they  had  heard.  It  was  as  if  the  vacant  air 
had  cried ;  then  laughed,  to  mock  itself  for  crying ; 
then  wailed,  to  chide  itself  for  laughing. 

Old  Pow-wow  had  followed  cowering  behind 
them.  Now  he  bounded  forward,  and  straight  came 
bounding  back  again,  with  something  in  his  mouth ,- 
which  he  laid  at  their  feet.  Pitiful  heavens!  The 
little  coonskin  cap !  The  next  instant  the  dog  had 
flung  him  sheer  over  the  brink  of  the  steep,  and  now, 
in  a  succession  of  huge  leaps  from  ledge  to  ledge,  was 
making  his  zig-zag  way  adown  its  sides,  till,  in  the 
forest  shadows  far  below,  he  disappeared.  One  mo 
ment  more  and  his  bark  came  ringing  joyfully  up  to 
his  friends — the  sweetest,  welcomes*  sound  that  had 
ever  greeted  their  ears. 

"Pow-wow  has  found  him!     Wait  here,  Elster!" 

So  saying,  and  moved  by  a  will,  not  all  his  own, 
and  sustained  by  a  power,  no  more  his  own  than  had 
he  been  a  child  in  his  father's  arms,  the  father  fol 
lowed  the  dog,  making  his  way  in  the  same  zig-zag 
manner  adown  the  perilous  hill,  till,  in  the  dusky 
shadows  at  its  base,  he,  too,  had  plunged.  A  few 
long,  rapid  strides,  and  he  was  at  the  spot  whence 


156  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

Pow-wow's  joyful  barks  had  continued  to  resound. 
What  found  he  there?  The  body,  indeed,  of  his 
child;  but  whether  as  a  waif  unto  life,  or  as  a  prize 
unto  death — it  were  hard  to  tell.  Stretched  out  on 
the  ground,  all  ghastly  it  lay;  the  head  toward  him, 
and  just  beyond  the  naked  feet — adjusted  side  by  side, 
with  their  old  air  of  easy  self-assurance,  the  Manitou 
moccasins.  As  the  father  approached,  the  elfish  lit 
tle  horrors,  fetching  a  summerset  aloft,  as  he  had 
seen  them  do  the  time  before,  plumped  themselves 
directly  between  him  and  his  child,  though  vanishing 
the  moment  they  touched  the  ground.  But,  with  the 
vanishing,  came  a  voice  of  more  than  mortal  tender 
ness,  and  with  the  voice  a  perfume  of  more  than 
earthly  sweetness. 
"Jervis  Whitney — 

Whom  we  lend  our  moccasins  red, 

Them  we  show  how  the  erring  are  sped. 
Whom  we  lend  our  coronals  green, 
Them  we  show  how  the  erring  are  seen, 

When  the  right  begins  to  fall, 

Hearts  must  bleed  or  lost  is  all." 

They  who  watched  from  above — for,  by  this  time, 
many  were  there  with  Elster — had  scarcely  drawn  the 
long,  full  breath,  which  follows  a  moment  of  breath 
less  suspense,  when  the  father,  bearing  a  burden  in 
his  arms,  reappeared  at  the  base  of  the  precipice. 
They  called  to  him  and  pointed  to  the  path  that  led 


POW-WOW  FINDS  HIM.  157 

obliquely  around  the  hill,  as  being  that  by  which  he 
should  ascend.  A  moment  he  paused  and  ran  his 
eye  along  the  circuitous  way;  but  looking  upward 
again  to  the  group  above  him,  and  seeing  Elster  lean 
ing  over  the  dizzy  brink,  with  arms  outstretched,  in 
piteous  eagerness  to  clasp  their  loved  one  again  to 
her  heart,  he  paused  no  longer.  To  their  unspeak 
able  amazement,  right  up  that  huge  and  difficult 
steep,  all  burdened  as  he  was,  came  the  bold,  strong 
man,  with  steps  so  light  and  swift  that  his  ascent  ap 
peared  as  smooth  and  uninterrupted  as  the  gliding 
shadow  of  a  flying  bird.  Bold  and  strong,  indeed, 
but  that  were  a  feat,  if  not  beyond  all  human  courage 
to  dare,  at  least  beyond  all  human  strength  to  per 
form. 

"Oh !  God  of  Love !"  exclaimed  the  mother,  as 
the  father  gained  the  summit.  "But  our  child  is  dead ! 
Our  child  is  dead !" 

And  with  a  piteous  moan,  the  poor  heart  swooned 
away.  Kind  hands  stayed  her  fall,  and  taking  her  up 
and  bearing  her  into  the  fort,  there  laid  her  on  a  bed 
in  grandpap's  house.  The  same  kind  hands  took  the 
boy,  whom,  up  to  this  moment,  the  father  had  held 
tenderly  clasped  to  his  rugged  breast;  took  and  laid 
him  beside  his  senseless  mother,  his  garments  all  torn 
to  tatters  and  red  with  blood,  which  still  trickled  from 
many  a  wound. 

"After  all,  the  child  may  not  be  dead,"  said  a  kind 
voice — young  Ben  Logan's  mother.  "See  how  he 
11 


158  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

bleeds."  And  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the  unheaving 
breast,  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  finding  the  heart  still 
beating.  Then,  after  a  moment  of  suspense,  came 
the  joyful  announcement :  "It  beats !  It  beats !  The 
child  still  lives!" 

The  cry  aroused  the  mother  to  consciousness. 
Clasping  her  child  to  her  bosom,  in  an  agony  of  pity 
ing  love  and  hopeless  sorrow,  again  and  again  she 
cried :  "Oh !  God  of  Love !  But  our  child  is  dead !" 

"No,  Elster,  dear,  your  darling  is  not  dead,"  said 
another  kind  voice — little  Bertha  Bryant's  mother. 
"Give  him  to  us  and  we  will  wash  and  lave  his  wounds 
and  bind  them  up  with  healing  salves.  See  how 
freely  they  bleed.  That  could  not  be  the  case  if  he 
were  dead." 

She  suffered  them  to  take  him  and  do  with  him 
as  they  would ;  for  herself,  she  still  believed  him  dead. 
At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  Jervis,  who  had  gone  with 
the  women  to  assist  in  the  work  of  resuscitation,  re 
turned  to  her  and  bade  her  be  of  good  cheer ;  that  the 
wounds,  though  many  and  grievous  enough,  did  not 
seem  to  be  deep  and  dangerous,  and  the  signs  of  re 
viving  life  were  growing  every  moment  more  and 
more  apparent.  Thus  reassured,  Elster  arose,  and 
from  that  time  forward  performed  her  part  as  be 
seemed  the  mother  of  the  sufferer. 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  159 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Youngf  Ben  Logan. 

That  morning,  when  the  quest  had  begun,  fore 
most  of  all  the  questers  had  gone  forth  young  Ben 
Logan.  Throughout  the  anxious  day  no  one,  saving 
the  father  of  the  lost  boy,  had  shown  sudh  unremit 
ting,  unwearied  diligence  in  the  search  as  Ben,  and 
that  he  had  desisted  at  all  was  because  the  gathering 
shadows  of  evening  had  rendered  further  efforts  un 
availing. 

Young  Ben  Logan,  it  will  be  remembered,  was 
the  boy  to  whom  poor  Sprigg  had  been  so  eager  to 
make  a  display  of  his  red  moccasins,  even  while  con 
fident  that  their  glitter  and  gleam  would  set  his 
young  friend — 'the  best  young  friend  he  had  in  the 
world — to  dying  of  envy  the  moment  they  met  his 
dazzled  eyes.  Ben  was  a  big-bodied,  soft-hearted, 
slow-thoughted  lad,  about  sixteen  years  of  age ;  big 
ger  already,  indeed,  and  stronger  fhan  the  majority 
of  grown-up  men.  He  could  handle  a  rifle  like  a  vet 
eran  marksman,  and,  in  the  ways  of  forest  life,  could 
make  himself  as  completely  at  home  as  a  young 
Indian.  He  was  greatly  attached  to  Sprigg,  and  al 
though  the  older  by  three  or  four  years,  considered 
his  little  friend  as,  in  every  way,  his  equal,  excepting 


160  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

as  regarded  size,  marksmanship  and  woodcraft.  In 
return,  Sprigg  loved  Ben  as  much  as  a  boy  so  hu 
mored  and  spoilt,  and,  consequently,  so  wayward  and 
selfish,  was  capable  of  loving  anybody  not  exactly 
necessary  to  make  Number  One  all  comfortable  and 
snug.  He  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  high  esteem 
'in  which  his  mental  parts  were  held  by  his  big  chum 
and  master's  every  look,  word  and  act  told  you  over 
and  over  that  he  was  exactly  of  the  same  opinion,  if 
not  more  so.  Nor  can  we  ourselves  deny,  having 
had  frequent  occasion  to  note  the  fact,  that  our  hero 
was  a  boy  of  uncommon  sprightliness  of  mind  and 
liveliness  of  imagination,  while  Ben  was  somewhat 
heavy  and  slow  in  all  his  ways,  except  when  all  agog 
in  the  chase,  and  then  he  was  as  light  and  elastic  as 
an  Indian  bow ;  as  quick  and  keen  as  an  Indian  arrow. 
Such  being  the  difference  between  them,  the  two  cro 
nies  chimed  as  smoothly  together  as  a  pair  of  well 
agreeing  fiddles,  each,  in  turn,  taking  the  lead  of  the 
other — Ben,  when  they  were  roaming  the  perilous 
solitudes  of  the  forest ;  Sprigg,  when  they  were  be- 
sporting  themselves  within  the  safe  precincts  of  the 
fort. 

Evening  had  deepened  into  night^  when,  all  alone, 
weary  and  very  sad,  Ben  Logan  made  his  way  back 
to  the  fort.  Here,  at  the  gate,  being  informed  of  the 
marvelous  manner  in  which  the  quest  had  terminated, 
he  hurried  on  to  grandpap's  house  to  see  his  little 
friend  and  learn  what  further  particulars  he  might  of 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  161 

the  mysterious  affair.  His  mother,  hearing  that  he 
was  coming,  hastened  to  meet  him  at  the  door; 
hastened,  because  her  son,  being  intended  by  nature 
for  a  man  of  huge  proportions,  was  already  provided 
with  the  full-grown  foot  to  meet  that  end.  Conse 
quently,  his  fashion  of  traveling  over  the  loose,  board 
floors,  we  usually  see  in  backwoods  cabins,  was  of 
that  horse-like  kind  peculiar  to  overgrown  boys,  and 
against  which  quiet  old  ladies  are  wont  to  protest  as 
more  in  keeping  with  barns  and  bridges  than  with 
human  dwellings.  And  now  that  she  wa's  a  nurse,  his 
mother  must  needs  protest  against  the  habit  in  ques 
tion  more  earnestly  than  usual,  representing  the  ne 
cessities  of  the  case  in  a  way  so  affectionate  and  anx 
ious  that  the  tender-hearted  Ben  felt  himself  grow 
ing  tender-footed,  even  while  yet  he  stood  on  the 
solid  earth.  It  took  her  but  a  few  minutes  to  tell 
him  all  she  knew  of  Sprigg's  story,  and  it  was  as  much 
as  Elster  knew,  or  any  one  else,  indeed,  excepting 
Jervis  Whitney  himself.  When  he  had  heard  it,  the 
young  hunter,  big  with  wonder  and  pity,  leaned  his 
rifle  against  the  wall  beside  the  doorway,  and,  tread 
ing  the  floor  as  lightly  as  were  he  walking  on  thin 
ice,  followed  his  mother  into  a  back  room,  which  had 
been  assigned  to  the  little  sufferer. 

There,  pale  as  the  dead,  and  as  senseless,  he  lay, 
and  as  motionless,  saving  the  slightest  breathing, 
which  might  encourage  the  hope  that,  in  the  contest 
between  them,  life  still  held  the  advantage  over 


162  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

death.  Every  now  and  then  a  tremor,  somewhat 
more  perceptible  than  the  breathing,  would  play  for 
a  moment  over  the  lacerated  limbs,  like  the  flickering 
flame  of  an  expiring  lamp.  Ben  could  remain  no 
longer  than  just  sufficed  for  one  good  look  at  his  un 
fortunate  little  friend,  as  that  was  enough  to  call 
forth  a  blubbering  outburst  of  pitiful  feeling  much 
too  boisterous  for  a  place  like  that,  and  quite  as  much 
to  be  protested  against  by  the  doctors  and  nurses  as 
his  horse-like  tread.  So  he  conveyed  himself  away 
with  as  little  noise  as  a  rumbling,  puncheon  floor 
would  well  allow  a  half-grown  boy  with  full-grown 
feet.  And  gathering  up  his  rifle  as  he  passed  out  at 
the  door,  went  crying  home.  Some  people,  espe 
cially  the  harder  cases  among  the  boys,  may  regard 
such  an  exhibition  of  feeling  as  more  beseeming  a 
faint-hearted  girl  than  a  bold-hearted  young  hunter. 
But  you  and  I  know  too  well  what  human  nature 
ought  to  be  than  to  think  anything  of  the  sort.  We 
know  that  this  tenderness  of  feeling — let  them  call  it 
weakness  if  they  will — was  the  best  part  of  young 
Ben  Logan's  strength,  and  that,  without  it,  the  son 
of  a  white  man's  wife  would  have  been  no  better  than 
the  son  of  a  red  man's  squaw. 

Next  morning,  at  rise  of  sun — you  all  know 
what  a  desperately  early  riser  the  sun  is  in  the 
busy  month  of  June — Ben  was  again  at  grandpap's 
house  to  learn  how  it  was  faring  with  his  little  friend, 
and  to  offer  such  help  in  the  case  as  a  boy  might  ren- 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  163 

d'er.  His  mother,  who,  with  Bertha  Bryant's  mother, 
had  watched  all  night,  met  him  at  the  door  and  told 
him  that  Sprigg,  although  still  unconscious,  showed 
some  signs  of  improvement;  his  breathing  was 
stronger  and  more  regular,  and  the  tremor  about  his 
limbs  had  nearly  disappeared.  Ben  wished  to  know 
if  it  would  not  be  advisable  for  him  to  go  to  the  lick 
and  shoot  a  fat,  young  buck  for  Sprigg.  Sprigg's 
favorite  dish  was  a  venison  ham  chopped  up  and  made 
into  a  pie,  with  rich,  brown  crust  and  plenty  of  good, 
cream  gravy,  and  he  ought  to  have  it  for  his  dinner 
to-morrow.  His  mother  smiled  at  the  suggestion, 
and  answered  that  it  would  be  many  a  day,  she  feared, 
before  his  little  friend  could  be  equal  to  such  a  strong 
diet.  Well,  he  would  go  and  shoot  a  buffalo  for 
Sprigg.  Sprigg  was  uncommonly  fond  of  buffalo 
tongue,  and  might  like  to  have  some  for  his  supper 
that  night.  No ;  buffalo  tongue  was  not  more  to  be 
thought  of  than  venison  pastry.  Well,  then,  a  fat, 
young  bear ;  what  could  be  more  tender  and  delicate 
than  the  fat  of  a  young  bear,  especially  when  the 
woods,  as  now,  were  full  of  wild  honey?  No ;  all  too 
rich  and  strong  for  the  present  demands  of  the  case. 
Should  the  little  patient  be  found  able  to  swallow  just 
a  few  spoonfuls  of  weak  squirrel  broth,  right  glad 
and  thankful  should  they  be.  So  "Benjamin"  might 
go  and  fetch  a  squirrel  for  Sprigg. 

"Benjamin  went  and  did  as  he  was  bidden,  bring 
ing  down  a  squirrel  within  gunshot  of  the  fort  and 


164  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

sending  it  in  forthwith  to  his  mother.  But  this  was 
far  from  satisfying  "Benjamin,"  and  he  believed  it 
would  be  far  from  satisfying  Sprigg.  As  the  station 
here  had  resulted  in  a  settlement  of  considerable  ex 
tent,  game  of  the  larger  sort  had  grown  very  scarce 
in  the  immediate  vicinity,  thus  obliging  the  hunter, 
who  would  pursue  the  chase  on  a  scale  beseeming  the 
hunter's  paradise,  to  betake  him  to  the  more  unfre 
quented  parts  of  the  forest.  So,  to  the  distant  lick 
went  young  Ben  Logan,  leading,  Daniel  Boone-like, 
a  horse  by  the  bridle  to  help  him  home  with  the  spoils 
of  the  chase.  He  had  taken  counsel  with  himself  and 
was  resolved  that  Sprigg  should  have  a  fair  start  in 
the  direction  of  recovery  to  health,  and  to  this  benev 
olent  end  a  fat,  young  buck  or  buffalo  must  that  day 
bite  the  dust ;  or,  better  still,  as  the  woods  were  full  of 
wild  honey,  a  fat,  young  bear.  Squirrels  and  birds 
might  do  well  enough  for  people  in  full  health,  where 
nature  had  only  to  hold  her  own ;  but  in  a  case  like 
Sprigg's  where  nature  was  exhausted,  it  was  only  the 
larger  quadrupeds  which  could  yield  the  nourishment 
sufficiently  strengthening  for  certain  and  speedy  re 
cuperation.  According  to  Ben's  theory,  a  given 
quantity  of  bear's  meat,  for  example,  afforded  some 
ten  or  twelve  times  as  much  nourishment  as  an  equal 
quantity  of  squirrel's  meat. 

That  day  a  fat,  young  bear  fell  a  sacrifice  to  Ben's 
physiological  heresy ;  the  next  day  a  fat,  young  buck ; 
a  lordly  buffalo  on  the  third,  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  for 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  165 

more  than  a  week,  with  a  smart  sprinkling  of  squir 
rels  and  bird's  looking  to  the  special  wants  of  the 
doctors  and  nurses.  Every  morning  he  would  fur 
nish  the  squirrel  or  bird  required  of  him ;  which,  hav 
ing  done  by  way  of  compromise  between  his  better 
judgment  and  his  duty  as  a  son,  then  away  to  the  lick 
would  he  hie  himself  on  his  own  responsibility  for 
something  better  worth  a  hunter's  notice.  The  good 
fellow  had  evidently  taken  Sprigg's  case  into  his  own 
hands,  under  an  abiding  conviction  that  nothing  less 
than  an  heroic  course  of  wild  meat  could  bring  it  to 
a  happy  issue.  Thus,  while  he  was  devoting  all  his 
powers  of  body  and  mind,  and  the  shiny  parts  of  a 
fortnight  to  the  sustenance  of  one  little  sick  boy, 
young  Ben  Logan  had  well  nigh  foundered  the  whole 
settlement  on  wild  meat — the  backbones,  tongues  and 
spareribs  themselves  being  enough  to  surfeit  the  fort, 
consisting,  though  it  did,  of  some  ten  or  twelve  fami 
lies,  all  well  stocked  with  children  and  dogs. 

How  could  poor  Sprigg  have  ever  imagined  that 
a  pair  of  red  moccasins,  or  anything  else,  indeed, 
which  might  be  named  as  very  attractive  to  juvenile 
fancy,  could  stir  up  envy,  to  the  dying  extent,  or  to 
any  extent  whatever,  in  the  simple,  unselfish  heart  of 
his  friend  Ben?  Ben  would  have  admired  the  moc 
casins  exceedingly;  pronounced  them  beautiful,  fine 
enough  for  the  son  of  a  Shawnee  Sachem;  fine 
enough,  indeed,  for  Nick  of  the  Woods  himself;  but 
to  envy  Sprigg  for  his  finery  would  no  more  'have  en- 


166  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

tered  his  thoughts  than  to  envy  a  redbird  for  his  tail 
feathers,  or  a  red  man  for  his  head  feathers.  Ben 
could  have  put  those  Manitou  moccasins  on  and  worn 
them  whithersoever  he  pleased,  and  his  guileless  feet 
been  as  easy  and  safe  in  them  as  had  they  been  shod 
with  unenchanted,  merchantable,  split-leather ,Yankee 
shoes.  Ben  could  have  followed  the  chase  in  those 
moccasins  day  after  day,  till  he  had  rubbed  and  kicked 
them  bare  of  all  their  gaudy  beads ;  till  he  had 
snagged  them  full  of  holes  and  covered  them  over 
with  barbarous  patches  of  his  own  needlework,  and 
never,  in  all  that  time,  have  missed  his  aim,  or  lost  his 
way,  or  forgotten  to  say  his  prayers,  for  aught  he 
could  have  seen  in  their  glitter  and  gleam  to  daze  and 
cheat  him  out  of  his  sober  senses. 

And  why?  Because  Ben  Logan  was  not  a  wild 
dreamer.  In  other  words,  because  he  was  one  of  the 
best  boys  that  ever  lived ;  so  good,  indeed,  that  he 
could  not  have  been  more  invincible  to  Manitou 
spells,  even  had  he  been  armed  with  Tom  Walker's 
pocket  bible  and  worn  it  perpetually  in  his  bosom. 
Nick  of  the  Woods  himself  could  never  befuddle  the 
wits  of  such  a  boy,  even  were  he,  too,  minded  to  make 
the  trial  and  exert  his  Manitou  utmost  to  that  end ; 
though,  to  do  him  justice,  the  Manitou  king  was  per 
fectly  willing — glad,  you  may  have  it — to  let  Ben 
Logan  alone.  He  knew  very  well  that  he  could  do 
nothing  for  the  bettering  of  such  a  boy,  which  nature 
— best  of  mothers — had  not  done  for  him  already. 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  167 

No  need  to  set  Ben's  heart  a-bleeding  to  develop  the 
good  that  was  in  it,  or  to  crumble  up  the  evil. 

Now,  there  are  people  who,  though  given  to  swal 
lowing  their  own  camels,  are  just  as  given  to  strain 
ing  at  other  people's  gnats ;  and  'these,  of  course,  be 
ing  incredulous  as  to  what  I  have  just  affirmed,  must 
need  some  further  proof  to  remove  their  doubts. 
They  shall  have  only  to  read  what  follows. 

One  pleasant  afternoon,  as  Ben  Logan  was  rang 
ing  the  wilderness,  catering  for  his  little  sick  friend, 
Nick  of  the  Woods  caught  Will-o'-the-Wisp  and 
Manitou-Echo  amusing  themselves  at  the  young 
hunter's  expense.  They  would  set  the.  trees  and  bushes 
to  waving  their  tops  and  fluttering  their  leaves, 
where  there  was  no  wind;  smoke  to  rising,  where 
there  was  no  fire ;  fire  to  burning,  where  there  was  no 
fuel;  shadows  to  flitting  and  dodging  about,  where 
there  were  no  visible  forms ;  echoes  to  calling  and  an 
swering  each  other,  where  there  were  no  audible 
voices.  Then  would  the  elfish  rogues  fall  to  laugh 
ing  and  skipping  about  in  the  most  extravagant  man 
ner  to  witness  the  big,  young  mortal's  demonstra 
tions  of  amazement ;  how  he  would  open  wide  his  eyes 
to  stare  this  way,  and  wider  still  to  stare  that  way; 
how  he  would  cock  first  one  ear,  then  the  other,  to 
listen ;  yes,  and  how  he  cocked  his  gun,  too,  ready  to 
let  fly  the  unerring  bullet,  the  moment  whatever  it 
was — man,  or  varmint,  or  goblin — might  dare  to  ex 
pose  but  so  much  as  the  head  or  tail  of  itself  for  a 
mark. 


168  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

"Imps !"  cried  the  Manitou  king,  "let  Ben  Logan 
alone!  There's  nothing  in  the  dreams  of  such  a 
young  mortal  which  calls  for  any  of  your  good  help. 
Were  Ben  a  boy  of  a  wild  and  brilliant  fancy,  say,  like 
Sprigg,  whose  case  we  are  putting  through  in  a  some 
what  novel  fashion,  why,  these  pranks  you  are  playing 
might  not  be  deemed  unseasonable,  might  even  be 
approved ;  but  you  forget  the  nature  of  Manitou  duty 
and  go  beyond  the  bounds  of  Manitou  privilege,  when 
you  turn  aside  to  bedevil  a  thoroughly  honest  human 
thing  like  Ben.  To  be  sure,  as  I  have  just  hinted,  Ben 
is  not  a  brilliant  youth,  nor  shall  ever  be  one,  even 
though  he  should  live  to  siee  has  second  childhood, 
and  from  that  stage  of  mortal  existence  take  a  fresh 
start;  nor  is  he  likely  ever  to  make  a  conspicuous 
figure  in  the  world.  What,  though,  does  this  signify 
to  us  Manitous?  Such  considerations,  smacking, 
as  they  do,  of  human  folly,  are  not  the  sort  to  influ 
ence  the  true  Manitou  way  of  viewing  mankind,  or 
the  true  Manitou  way  of  dealing  with  human  con 
cerns.  'Tis  enough  for  us  that  Ben  is  right-minded 
and  true-hearted ;  that  he  keeps  his  dreams  and  fan 
cies  within  beseeming  limits,  never  letting  fhem  go 
gadding  wide  and  loose  from  home ;  or,  if  he  lets 
them  go  abroad  at  all,  depend  upon  it,  the  ends  he 
proposes  to  himself  are  well  meant  and  unselfish,  be 
they  wise  or  simple.  Therefore,  it  behooves  us,  as 
true  Manitous,  to  treat  this  humble,  honest  lad  with 
just  as  much  consideration  and  respect  as  we  were 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  169 

showing  the  boy  Washington,  some  forty  years  ago, 
and  are  now  showing  the  boy  Tecumseh. 

"Then  away  with  you,  now,  to  Meg  of  the  Hills 
and  join  her  in  her  attendance  on  Little  Bertha  Bry 
ant,  the  pretty  young  human  thing,  whose  mind  is  so 
free  from  foolish  fancies,  whose  heart  so  full  of  loving 
intentions  that  we  can  make  her,  and  are  making  her, 
and  shall  continue  to  make  her,  an  instrument  to  the 
good  and  happiness  of  the  less  worthy  with  whom 
her  lot  is  cast.  Away,  ye  imps !  But  mark  ye  before 
ye  go,  if  ever  I  catch  you  making  another  innocent 
mortal  the  object  of  your  impertinent  pranks,  I  will 
reduce  you,  sure  as  fate,  I  will,  to  your  original  fog 
and  moonshine,  with  just  so  little  of  you  left  as  shall 
barely  serve  for  echo  and  wisp." 


170  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Little  Bertha  Bryant. 

Who,  with  pretty,  young  eyes  overflowing  with 
soft,  sweet  tears,  stood  gazing  at  Sprigg  and  his 
mother,  where  they  lay  side  by  side  together?  Little 
Bertha.  Who,  with  pretty,  young  hands,  so  kind  and 
deft,  hung  the  kettle  over  the  fire,  and,  when  the  water 
was  warmed,  carried  it  to  her  mother  to  wash  and 
lave  Sprigg's  wounds?  Little  Bertha.  Who,  with 
pretty,  young  hopes  and  fears,  all  in  a  bird-like  flut 
ter,  hovered  around  till  the  latest  grown-up  bedtime, 
wishing  and  wishing  that  she  might  do  something  to 
make  Sprigg  open  his  eyes  and  smile — part  his  lips 
and  speak?  Little  Bertha.  Who,  with  pretty,  young 
feet,  so  willing  and  nimble,  ran  to  the  gate  next  morn 
ing,  and  every  morning  thereafter  for  more  than  a 
week,  to  receive  from  Ben  the  squirrel  or  bird  for 
Sprigg's  broth ;  then  to  the  spring  to  fetch  a  pail  of 
good,  cool  water;  then  to  a  neighbor's  house  for 
some  balsam;  then  somewhere  else  for  something 
else,  and  so  on  and  so  on  throughout  the  livelong 
summer  day,  and  all  for  Sprigg?  Little  Bertha  all  the 
time;  nobody  but  little  Bertha! 

And  who  was  little  Bertha?  Well,  the  answer  to 
this  question  can  only  be  given  in  superlatives,  and 


LITTLE  BERTHA  BRYANT.  171 

even  then  it  must  still  fall  short  of  full  expression. 
For  little  Bertha,  you  must  know,  was  the  sweetest- 
tempered,  the  truest-hearted,  the  clearest-headed,  the 
purest-minded,  the  most  helpful-handed,  the  most 
willing-footed — in  short,  the  best  and  the  nicest  little 
backwoods  damsel  that  ever  wore  linsey-woolsey 
frocks  and  homemade  shoes  in  winter,  and  homespun 
cotton  frocks  and  nothing  at  all  on  her  feet  in  sum 
mer.  But  I  see  that,  in  this  list,  I  had  well  nigh  for 
gotten  the  most  popular  of  all  superlatives — "pretti 
est."  So  accustomed  am  I  to  squaring  my  estimate 
of  beauty  by  the  good,  old  adage,  "he  handsome  is 
who  handsome  does,"  or  "she  beautiful  is  who  beau 
tiful  does" — to  employ  a  gender  more  appropriate 
to  the  case.  Well,  then,  "the  prettiest,"  withal,  as  you 
may  easily  believe  when  I  tell  you  that  her  hair  was  so 
gold-like,  her  eyes  so  sky-like,  her  brow  so  lily-like, 
her  cheeks  so  rose-like,  her  lips  so  cherry-like,  and 
her  form  and  motions  so  fairy-like,  that  Sleeping 
Beauty  herself — of  course,  I  mean  before  she  fell 
asleep — would  have  envied  little  Bertha,  even  to  the 
extent  of  wishing  that  she  had  been  born  in  a  back 
woods  cabin,  instead  of  a  royal  palace. 

From  what  has  just  been  said,  it  may  fairly  be  in 
ferred  that,  young  as  it  was,  little  Bertha's  life  was 
already  largely  made  up  of  daily  duty,  and  that  she 
found  in  them  such  real  delight  as  to  make  her  quite 
unconscious  of  deserving  credit  for  performing  them. 
But  the  duty  in  which  she  took  the  greatest  delight 


172  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

was  that  of  going  every  evening  to  the  bluegrass 
glades,  a  mile  away  from  the  fort,  to  fetch  the  cows 
home  to  be  milked  and  secured  for  the  night.  The 
glades,  which  were  well  set  in  grass  and  thickly  mot 
tled  over  with  patches  of  white  clover,  both  the  spon 
taneous  products  of  the  soil,  were  separated  from 
each  other  by  narrow  belts  of  forest  growth,  converg 
ing,  for  the  most  part,  toward  the  base  of  a  grass- 
coated,  tree-crowned,  exceedingly  pleasant-looking 
hill,  of  sufficient  height  to  command  a  fine  view  of  the 
neighboring  country.  To  the  top  of  this  hill,  no  mat 
ter  where  the  cattle  might  be,  Bertha  always  climbed 
before  quitting  the  spot. 

I  would  not  be  understood  as  meaning  that  back 
woods-man's  daughter  did  this  because  she  was  a 
great  admirer  of  fine  landscapes.  Intellectually,  she 
may  have  been  almost  unconscious  of  their  .beauty ; 
and  yet  it  made  her  happy  simply  to  sit  up  there  for 
a  half  hour  every  evening  and  let  the  gladness  in  her 
young  heart  go  forth  to  mingle  itself  with  gladness  of 
nature  around  her.  The  universal  mother  and  friend, 
thus  looked  directly  down  upon,  seems  to  assume  a 
smile  more  directly  responsive  to  the  thoughts  and 
emotions  in  the  beholder's  mind  than  when  viewed 
from  the  general  level.  The  little  girl  may  have  had 
but  the  faintest  intimation  of  such  an  interchange; 
yet,  depend  upon  it,  had  it  not  existed,  she  never 
would  have  troubled  herself  to  clamber  up  the  hill, 
excepting  when  the  cattle  were  up  there  and  too  per 
verse  to  come  down  at  her  gentle  call. 


LITTLE  BERTHA  BRYANT.  173 

On  the  evening  following  Sprigg's  mysterious  re 
appearance,  Bertha,  on  going  to  the  glades  and  climb 
ing  to  the  top  of  her  favorite  hill,  found  there  an  al 
together  unfamiliar  object,  the  sight  whereof  made 
her  two  blue  eyes  dilate  with  wonder  and  delight. 
Beside  the  moss-grown  tree  trunk,  where  she  always 
sat  when  up  there,  stood  a  small  but  exceedingly  lux 
uriant  bush,  which  must  have  been  the  growth  of  a 
single  day,  as  she  had  not  seen  it  there  on  the  previ 
ous  evening,  nor  the  like  of  it  in  all  her  life.  Upon 
the  bush,  besides  foliage  of  vivid  greenness,  grew  in 
in  the  greatest  profusion  a  large  flower  of  marvelous 
beauty,  both  as  to  its  shape,  so  heart-like,  and  to  its 
color,  so  blood-like.  But  what  more  especially  still 
distinguished  the  flower  was  its  perfume,  which, 
though  powerful  enough  to  be  perceptible  all  over 
the  hill,  was  yet  too  delicate,  too  lily-like  to  be  easily 
referred  to  a  plant  of  such  tropical  richness,  which 
had  more  the  appearance  of  bleeding  than  of  bloom 
ing.  It  was  a  sweetness  so  peculiar,  so  foreign  to  all 
common  experience  that  to  inhale  it  were  enough  to 
make  you  fancy  that  fairyland  was  blooming  near, 
and  fairy  florists  experimenting  with  their  plants  in 
mortal  soil. 

The  moment  Bertha  caught  sight  and  scent  of  the 
flowers,  there  came,  first  into  her  mind,  a  vivid  image 
of  Sprigg,  as  she  had  left  him  lying  at  home,  less  like 
the  living  than  the  dead ;  and  then,  into  her  heart,  a 
feeling  that  they  were  blooming  there  to  no  'Other  end 
12 


174  THE  BED  MOCCASINS. 

than  for  his  restoration  to  life  and  health.  Thus  im 
pressed — bespelled,  it  may  be — the  little  girl,  instead 
of  lingering  about  the  spot  as  usual,  hastened  to  fill 
her  apron  with  the  offered  good,  stripping  the  bush 
to  its  last  blossom.  Then,  bringing  the  cattle  to 
gether  in  the  shortest  time  the  thing  was  ever  done, 
without  the  help  of  a  dog,  she  sent  them  trotting 
homeward  with  all  their  awkward  might,  leaving  the 
patriarch  of  the  herd,  who  was  too  stately  or  too  stub 
born  to  be  stimulated  out  of  a  dignified  walk,  to  fol 
low  on  or  stay  behind,  as  suited  his  sulky  old  fancy 
best.  Briskly  had  they  started,  more  and  more 
briskly  on  they  went,  the  grandmotherly  cows  hob 
bling  along  in  that  peculiar,  cross-legged  trot,  rather 
suggestive  of  rheumatism  in  the  hocks  and  hips,  and 
which  limber-legged  little  boys,  who  follow  at  their 
heels,  are  mighty  apt  to  mimic.  Set  were  their  big, 
mild  eyes,  all  glassy  with  amazement — the  sun  a  mile 
too  high  for  milking  time,  not  a  sign  in  the  sky  to 
show  for  a  coming  thunder  storm;  not  a  yell,  not  a 
howl,  not  a  scream  in  the  forest  to  tell  of  Indian,  wolf 
or  panther. 

Arrived  at  home,  Bertha  turned  the  cows  into  the 
enclosure,  where  they  were  wont  to  be  milked  and  se 
cured  for  the  night.  Then  hastening  on  to  grand- 
pap's  house,  she  entered  by  a  back  door,  which 
opened  directly  into  the  sick  room,  and  stealing 
quietly  up  to  the  bedside,  began  softly  strewing  the 
fragrant  contents  of  her  apron,  handful  by  handful, 


LITTLE  BERTHA  BRYANT.  175 

over  and  around  the  form  of  the  unconscious  boy. 
Scarcely  were  the  flowers  strewn,  their  perfume  fill 
ing  the  room,  when,  slowly  over  the  wan,  young  face, 
which  until  this  moment  had  worn  the  fixed  and 
pallid  cast  of  death,  came  stealing  a  smile  of  solemn, 
innocent  sweetness,  such  as  we  often  see  on  the  faces 
of  sleeping  infants.  Faint,  it  is  true,  was  the  smile, 
yet  perceptible  enough  to  betoken  that  the  spirit  was 
still  at  home,  and  only  waiting  for  its  doors  to  be  re 
opened,  when  it  would  again  reveal  itself  as  a  living 
presence.  All  in  the  room  observed  the  change, 
wondering  and  rejoicing;  rejoicing,  for,  when  it 
passed  away,  which  it  did  more  slowly  than  it  had 
come,  they  could  see  that  the  smile  had  been  there, 
by  the  more  life-like  expression  it  left  upon  the  face. 
But  Jervis  Whitney  was  moved  to  wonderment  more 
than  all  the  rest ;  for  the  moment  he  caught  the  scent 
of  the  flowers,  he  remembered  it  to  be  the  same  as 
that  which  had  met  him  at  the  foot  of  the  /hill  the" 
previous  evening. 

Next  afternoon,  Bertha  was  off  to  the  glades  an 
hour  before  the  usual  time,  and  climbing  at  once  to 
the  top  of  the  hill,  was  delighted  to  find  that  the  bush 
had  put  forth  fresh  blossoms  on  every  twig  she  had 
stripped  the  evening  before,  and  evidently  to  no  other 
end  than  to  be  stripped  again  for  Sprigg's  especial 
benefit.  So  it  seemed  to  little  Bertha;  so  it  seems  to 
us.  The  folks  at  home  had  hardly  taken  the  second 
thought  that  she  had  gone  for  the  cows,  when  here 


176  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

was  Bertha  back  again,  her  cheeks  as  brightly  red 
from  her  loving  haste  as  the  flowers  she  was  strewing 
broadcast  over  and  around  her  unconscious  patient. 
Yes,  and  there  it  came  again — that  smile,  less  faint 
and  sweeter  still — and  when  it  had  passed  away  more 
slowly  than  before,  more  perceptible  still  was  the  life 
like  cast  it  left  upon  the  countenance.  Every  even 
ing,  for  seven  days,  was  this  repeated,  the  life-giving 
plant  as  often  renewing  its  blossoms,  and  their  vivi 
fying  effects  on  the  patient  becoming  more  and  more 
apparent.  Toward  the  third  evening  Sprigg  had  so 
far  revived  in  body  as  to  be  able  to  toss  himself  about 
on  the  bed,  and,  in  mind,  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  speak. 
And  these  manifestations  of  returning  strength  be 
came  each  day  more  and  more  decided.  When  he 
spoke,  however,  it  was  to  give  utterance,  in  short  and 
broken  sentences,  to  wild  and  incoherent  fancies,  in 
comprehensible  to  those  who  listened,  taking,  as  they 
'did,  shape  and  color  from  his  present  experiences; 
first,  as  an  object  of  Manitou  retribution,  now  as  an 
object  of  Manitou  regeneration.  But  always,  the  mo 
ment  Bertha,  returning  all  odorous  from  the  glades, 
entered  the  room,  the  tossings  and  the  ravings  would 
cease  and  he  would  sink  into  a  deep  and  peaceful 
sleep,  and  so  remain  throughout  the  livelong  night. 

At  length  the  imprisoned  spirit  became  so  sus 
ceptible  to  the  mysterious  flowers  that  the  brighten 
ing  of  the  wan,  young  face  would  begin  ere  Bertha, 
returning  with  a  fresh  culling  of  them,  had  well-nigh 


LITTLE  BERTHA  BRYANT.  177 

entered  the  house.  Of  course,  this  susceptibility 
comprehended  Bertha,  too,  else  she  never  could  have 
been  made  the  medium  of  such  administration. 
While  engaged  in  discharging  her  floral  office,  she  ap 
peared  as  one  in  happy  trance,  never  speaking  and 
apparently  as  oblivious  of  what  was  passing  around 
her  as  Sprigg  himself.  Always,  when  she  had  finished 
strewing  the  flowers,  she  would  take  her  station  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  where,  with  pretty  little  arms  folded 
together  and  resting  on  the  footboard,  she  would 
stand  gazing  fixedly  into  the  unconscious,  spirit-like 
face  before  her,  with  a  look  of  dreamy,  tender,  solemn 
wonder  in  her  innocent  blue  eyes,  beautiful  to  be  hold. 
How  could  poor  Sprigg  have  ever  imagined  that 
he  had  but  to  put  on  a  pair  of  red  moccasins  to  capti 
vate  the  fancy  and  win  the  love  of  such  a  little  angel 
as  Bertha  Bryant?  Had  she  seen  him  so  bedizened — 
"Fop-Indian!"  "Jack-Monkey!"  would  have  been  the 
first  thoughts  to  pop  into  her  judicious  little  head, 
and  Sprigg  might  have  chased  her  till  he  had  worn 
his  red  moccasins  slip-shod,  and  no  more  have  caught 
her  had  he,  indeed,  been  a  monkey,  chasing  a  dove 
or  a  bird  of  paradise.  That  he  was  spared  such  a 
humiliation  was  because  he  had  become  by  strange 
chance  an  object  of  Manitou  interest,  and  was  not 
allowed  to  carry  out  the  ridiculous  programme  he 
had  proposed  to  himself.  What  a  pity  it  is  that  many 
of  us  grown-up  Spriggs  can  not  become  objects  of 
similar  interest,  to  be  dealt  wath  in  the  like  manner, 


178  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

eren  to  the  bleeding-heart  degree,  and  madie  to  aban 
don,  perforce,  many  a  purpose  in  life,  which,  when  it 
is  too  late  to  escape  the  humiliation  of  its  failure,  or, 
worse,  still,  of  its  success,  proves  to  be  not  a  whit 
less  paltry  or  preposterous  than  the  programme  our 
little  hero  had  in  view  when  he  denned  his  red  moc 
casins. 


THE  MANITOU  BUTTERFLY.  179 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
The  Manitou  Butterfly. 

On  the  evening  of  the  seventh  day,  hardly  had 
Bertha  deflowered  the  bush,  when  suddenly  it  burst 
again  into  bloom  more  glorious  than  ever  before. 
Hardly  had  the  flowers  unfolded,  when  they  resolved 
themselves  into  a  blood-red  misit,  whidh  quickly  en 
veloped  the  whole  bush,  and  when  it  had  cleared  away 
the  Manitou  arbor  vitae  had  vanished — a  thing  too 
beautiful  to  be  seen  again  in  a  lifetime. 

But  now,  when  the  last  culling  of  that  mysterious 
life-giving  flower  was  strewn  upon  him,  Sprigg  not 
only  smiled  with  brighter,  more  present  intelligence 
than  at  any  previous  time,  but  opened  his  long-closed 
eyes.  And  how  beautiful  his  eyes  had  grown !  As 
uncloudedly  clear,  as  innocently  sweet,  as  those 
of  an  infant  awaking  from  a  long  and  untroubled 
slumber.  Raising  himself,  unassisted,  to  his  elbow, 
he  began  gazing  ab'out  him,  though  with  too  dreamy 
a  look  for  any  clear  perception  of  his  surroundings. 
"I  am  going,"  said  he,  talking  as  dreamily  as  he 
looked,  and  beginning  with  the  falsehood  which  he 
had  sent  back  to  'his  mother  as  he  was  running  away 
from  home — "I  am  going  to  our  best  spring,  down 
there  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  to  fetch  dear  Meg  of 


180  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

the  Hills  a  good,  cool  drink  of  water.  Then  I  am 
going  to  grandpap's  house  with  Nick  of  the  Woods. 
But  where  is  the  fence,  and  the  trees — where  are 
they?  And  the  bright  sun?  I  am  still  asleep  and 
only  dreaming." 

So  concluding,  ihe  lay  quietly  down  again,  and 
closing  his  eyes,  remained  perfectly  still  for  some 
moments,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  he  had  con 
cluded  aright  and  was  really  asleep.  In  a  little  while, 
however,  he  recommenced  his  dreamy  talk,  which, 
with  his  eyes  still  closed,  and  occasional  intervals  of 
sleep-like  silence,  he  kept  up  for  many  minutes.  His 
words,  to  those  who  listened,  seemed  but  the  inco 
herent  wandering  of  a  feverish  fancy. 

"They  kiss  me,  embrace  me — weep  over  me  as 
though  I  were  going  to  die.  I  think  they  mean  it 
for  Sprigg ;  but  Sprigg  is  dead  already — passed  away 
into  nothing.  They  have  lost  him  and  found  me, 
though  they  do  not  seem  to  know  the  difference  yet. 
That  is  the  way,  I  think ;  or  why  should  they  keep  on 
calling  me  for  him?  They  shall  never  see  their  old 
Sprigg  again.  Never !  Never !"  A  sleep-like  pause. 

"Sprigg  had  a  pair  of  red  moccasins — long,  long 
ago,  when  I  was  a  little,  a  very  little  boy.  I  think 
he  had  them ;  and  I  think  he  put  them  on  and  wore 
them,  far,  far  away,  when  he  had  been  forbidden  to 
do  so.  Yes,  I  am  sure  of  it  now;  for  I  remember 
telling  him  how  wrong  he  was  doing,  and  that  he 
ought  not  to  think  of  such  a  thing.  But  he  wouldn't 


THE  MANITOU  BUTTERFLY.  181 

listen  to  me;  he  would  have  his  own  way.  Whither 
he  went,  he  never  knew  to  his  dying  day ;  for  his  eyes 
and  thoughts  were  so  bewitched  by  his  moccasins 
that  he  quite  forgot  everything  else;  and,  so,  soon 
got  completely  lost."  It  was  a  wild  and  lonely  place 
where  Sprigg  found  himself  when  he  came  to  his 
senses.  A  great  hill,  whose  top  was  in  a  sky  all 
burning  and  red  with  the  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
Sprigg  blamed  the  moccasins  for  his  mishap;  was 
very  angry  at  them — jerked  them  from  his  feet  and 
flung  them  away.  But  here  they  came  right  back 
again,  walking,  walking  straight  up  to  him.  With 
the  red  moccasins  came  a  red  mist ;  and  out  of  the 
mist  would  frightful  shapes,  with  long,  sharp  claws, 
or  long,  sharp  horns  and  fiery  eyes,  come  stealing 
forth,  one  after  one.  They  scared  Sprigg  almost  to 
death,  and  would  have  torn  him  to  pieces ;  but  ever, 
just  as  they  would  be  making  to  spring  upon  him, 
would  the  red  moccasins  dart  in  between — kick  them 
in  their  ugly  eyes  and  drive  them  back  into  the  mist. 
"By  and  by  Sprigg  was  moving  swiftly  through 
the  dark  forest — borne  onward,  he  knew  not  how; 
and  ever  before  him  a  great  ball  of  dim,  white  light. 
The  ball  of  light  sank  into  the  earth,  growing  brighter 
and  brighter.  Sprigg  sank  with  it,  deeper,  deeper, 
till  far  down  there  he  found  himself  in  a  world  where 
there  was  no  sun,  no  moon,  and  yet  was  it  very 
bright.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  little  people,  all 
going  one  way,  went  gliding  swiftly  by;  so  swiftly 


182  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

that  they  seemed  to  be  on  wings.  Some  of  them 
were  very  funny  to  look  at ;  some  wild,  some  savage ; 
but  all  were  beautiful,  and  all  were  terrible.  Sprigg 
was  desperately  afraid  of  the  little  people — 'Mani- 
tous,'  they  called  themselves.  Though  he  need  not 
have  feared  them;  for,  let  them  look  as  they  might, 
they  had  no  thought  for  him  but  love  and  to  do  him 
kindness.  I  told  Sprigg  the  Manitous  were  loving 
him  all  the  tame,  but  he  would  not  believe  me.  He 
was  too  bad  to  trust  them  or  anybody  else. 

"Sprigg  was  a  liar — with  a  lie  in  his  mouth  had  he 
sneaked  off  from  home — sneaked  off  'like  a  spit-thief 
dog.'  The  Manitous  said  so;  I  heard  them  say  it. 

"And  the  Manitous  told  me  how  it  had  happened 
that  Sprigg  was  such  a  bad  boy;  it  was  because  his 
father  and  mother  had  loved  him  unwisely ;  and,  as 
they  had  loved  him,  so  had  they  trained  him.  They 
had  made  a  fool  of  their  boy  by  making  a  pet  of  him, 
as  if  he  were  a  pretty  little  animal,  and  not  a  little 
human  creature.  They  had  humored  his  every  whim, 
excused  his  every  fault,  until  they  had  made  him  so 
vain,  selfish  and  false  that  his  heart  must  be  made  to 
bleed  to  bring  him  to  his  better  self.  Yes ;  and  their 
hearts,  too — all  must  be  made  to  bleed  before  they 
could  look  for  happy  days  again. 

"And  there  on  the  ground  were  the  shadows  of 
men  and  women,  boys  and  girls — standing,  walking 
or  flitting  about,  or,  all  on  a  sudden,  melting  away 
into  nothing — and  never  a  human  creature  to  be  seen 


THE  MANITOU  BUTTERFLY.  183 

dead  or  alive.  Sprigg's  shadow  was  among  them — 
and  a  spotted  thing  it  was ;  so,  indeed,  were  they  all. 
How  could  such  shadows  be  cast?  Sprigg  looked 
up.  I  tell  you,  he  jumped  !  What  was  it  he  saw  ?  Up 
there  in  the  sky,  where  the  sun  ought  to  be,  there  he 
saw  an  eye — a  great  and  terrible  eye — that  looked  di 
rectly  down  on  him — through  him — for,  though  his 
body  cast  a  shadow,  it  was  no  more  in  the  light  of 
that  eye  than  the  clearest  glass.  Not  only  through 
his  body,  but  such  a  light  it  was,  it  shone  through 
his  very  soul,  and  showed  what  a  spotted  thing  it  was 
— spotted  all  over  with  lies.  To  see  that  eye  was  to 
feel  that  it  had  been  upon  you  all  the  days  of  your 
life.  Yet,  terrible  as  was  its  glance,  love  was  in  it, 
as  well  as  light — love  even  for  such  as  Sprigg;  but 
that  made  him  fear  it  all  the  more.  I  told  Sprigg  to 
trust  the  >eye ;  and  that  he  could  not  do  so  was  be 
cause  he  was  too  bad  a  boy  to  put  his  trust  anywhere. 
We  are  all  afraid  of  the  love  which,  without  telling 
us,  shows  us  how  wicked  we  are. 

"Sprigg  tried  to  hide  from  the  eye,  but  he  could 
put  nothing  between  it  and  himself,  which  it  could  not 
pierce  and  make  no  more  of  than  air.  Then,  in 
greater  terror  than  ever,  he  ran  from  the  eye — ran 
from  the  Manitous — ran,  ran  and  ran;  and  now  the 
red  moccasins  were  again  on  his  feet.  He  could  turn 
them  neither  this  way  nor  that,  nor  stop  them,  nor 
pull  them  off ;  they  did  with  him  as  they  chose.  They 
fled,  with  the  setting  sun  before  them,  and  with 


184  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

frightful  monsters  following  close  behind.  The 
monsters  ran  more  swiftly  than  the  moccasins ;  they 
chased  Sprigg  up  into  the  sky — to  the  very  edge  of 
sunset — and  there  the  moccasins  leaped  with  him 
from  a  horrible  brink,  down,  down  into  the  shadows 
of  death.  Sprigg  was  dying,  almost  dead,  when  came 
old  Pow-wow  and  barked  over  him  for  joy — licked 
his  bloody  face — licked  his  bleeding  wounds.  But 
Sprigg  heard  not  the  glad  barking,  though  I  did. 
And  I  heard  something  else  that  Sprigg  did  not — a 
tender  and  beautiful  voice  close  beside  him,  that  said : 
'Bleed  no  more,  poor  heart !  Bleed  no  more  !'  Then 
Sprigg  died — passed  away  into  nothing — chased  by 
the  Manitous  out  of  the  world.  That  is  the  way  they 
do.  You  shall  never  see  your  old  Sprigg  again. 
Never !  Never ! !  Never ! ! !" 

Here  follows  an  interval  of  sleep-like  silence, 
longer  than  any  before.  In  silent  wonderment,  not 
unmixed  with  awe,  they  stood  around  him  gazing 
upon  his  face,  which,  while  so  oblivious  of  outward 
things,  was  yet  so  brightly  expressive  of  a  purer, 
higher  intelligence  awaking  within.  It  has  been  re 
marked  that  he  was,  in  every  way,  a  handsome  boy, 
even  when  his  face  was  wont  to  be  more  expressive 
of  evil  than  of  good.  But  with  the  great  inward 
changes  his  whole  nature  had  undergone,  an  outward 
change  had  taken  place,  which  amounted  almost  to 
transfiguration — so  spiritually  beautiful  now  was  his 
appearance.  His  words,  however  fantastic  and  in- 


THE  MANITOU  BUTTERFLY.  185 

coherent  they  may  have  seemed  to  the  others  present, 
came  burdened  with  a  deep  significance  to  his  father, 
and  to  his  mother,  also ;  for,  by  this  time,  Jervis  had 
told  Elster  of  his  singular  interview  with  Nick  of  the 
Woods.  A  significance  the  deeper,  since  every  word 
struck  home  to  hearts,  conscience-stricken  and  full 
of  self-upbraiding. 

Long  before  the  period  of  our  first  acquaintance 
with  them  had  Jervis  and  Elster  begun  to  feel  and  ac 
knowledge  to  each  other  the  grievous  mistake  they 
had  made  in  the  training  of  their  son,  bestowing  upon 
him  their  abundant  affection,  untempered  by  that 
judicious  and  habitual  exercise  of  controlling  will, 
without  which,  parental  love  but  forestalls  the  very 
ends  it  has  nearest  at  heart — the  good  and  the  happi 
ness  of  the  offspring.  Gold  can  not  be  too  rich, 
where  only  ornament  is  the  object  in  view;  but  it 
needs  to  be  alloyed  with  silver  to  be  made  firm  and 
consistent  enough  to  meet  the  ends  of  uses.  Their 
love,  from  very  richness,  had  been  of  too  soft  and 
yielding  a  nature  to  fashion  the  character  of  their 
child  into  the  thing  of  beauty  for  which  its  maker  had 
designed  it.  Now,  had  he  returned,  as  it  were,  from 
the  dead,  to  upbraid  them  with  the  wrong  they  had 
done  him.  All  unwittingly  had  he  ministered  the  re 
buke  ;  perhaps,  on  being  restored  to  his  normal  self, 
should  never  remember  what  he  had  done.  Yet,  for 
that  very  reason,  all  the  more  bitter  was  the  reflec 
tion,  since  it  showed  how  deep  the  wrong  was,  if  his 


186  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

innermost  soul  could  be  cognizant  of  it  and  speak  out 
in  his  vindication,  while  his  more  external  nature 
was  as  yet  incapable  of  knowing  or  comprehending 
it.  What  remorse  they  felt  at  the  thought  of  the  sore 
affliction,  which,  by  their  folly,  they  had  brought  upon 
his  young  life ;  what  good  resolutions  they  formed, 
looking  to  atonement  and  recompense ;  what  prayers 
they  offered  up  for  forgiveness  of  the  past,  and  for 
guidance  in  the'  future — must  be  left  to  the  heart  and 
conscience  of  every  judicious  parent  to  conceive. 

After  some  minutes  the  boy  resumed,  still  with  his 
eyes  closed,  the  windows  of  the  tenement  shut,  but 
the  light  from  within  shining  through  the  translucent 
walls.  . 

"Some  one  is  here,  who  goes  and  comes  as  goes 
and  comes  none  else.  Her  step  is  light,  her  touch 
soft,  her  voice  gentle  and  low.  I  love  to  have  her 
near  me.  Where  she  is  can  come  no  evil  thing.  Wild 
dreams  stand  at  the  door,  waiting  for  her  to  go  away, 
when  they  come  slipping  in  to  dance  around  me,  to 
laugh  at  me,  to  point  the  mocking  finger  at  me — 
sometimes,  to  scowl  and  frown  upon  me.  They  are 
after  Sprigg,  to  vex  and  frighten  him,  and  think  that 
I  am  he.  But  the'moment  she  comes  back,  out  they 
go  skipping  by  another  door — make  all  the  haste  they 
can  to  get  away.  They  are  afraid  of  her,  as  is  every 
evil  thing,  because  she  is  as  God,  in  the  beginning, 
made  her — all  love  and  truth. 


THE  MANITOU  BUTTERFLY.  187 

"Sometimes  she  comes,  bringing  with  her  the 
pleasant  smell  of  the  woods — the  fresh,  green,  beau 
tiful  woods  I  love  so  much.  She  seems  to  bring  with 
her  the  sky,  too,  so  sunny  her  presence  makes  all 
around  me;  and  once  more  I  am  happy — so  full  of 
rest  and  sleep.  That  smell  of  the  woods — it  never 
comes,  but  I  feel  as  if  Meg  of  the  Hills  must  be  near, 
with  her  crown  of  crimson  flowers;  so  wonderful — 
it  is  bliss  to  see  their  beauty,  life  to  breathe  their 
sweetness.  Surely  she  who  goes  and  comes  must 
have  found  these  flowers  and  brought  them  to  me! 
Else  I  had  never  been  here  where  I  am,  this  what  I 
am.  I  think  she  must  be  near  me  now.  I  will  see." 

So  saying,  and  before  he  had  fairly  reopened  his 
eyes,  our  Manitou  butterfly,  now  nearly  ready  to 
spurn  the  chrysalis,  raised  himself  again  to  his  elbow 
and  took  another  dreamy  survey  of  the  room.  His 
eyes,  however,  seemed  to  find  no  object  to  rest  on, 
until  they  met  a  pair  as  dreamy  as  themselves — the 
innocent,  blue  ones,  there  at  the  foot  of  his  bed, 
through  which  a  soul  was  looking  so  directly  into  his 
own  that  he  could  no  longer  but  be  cognizant  of  a 
fellow  creature's  presence. 

"Yes,  there  she  is.  But  she  looks  like  Bertha, 
and  Bertha  is  not  a  little  angel,  like  the  one  who  goes 
and  comes.  Though,  if  she  is  not,  it  must  be  because 
the  good  angels  have  not  yet  taken  her  to  them 
selves;  for,  now  that  I  see  her  better,  she  looks 
enough  like  an  angel  to  be  the  one  who  goes  and 


188  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

comes.  Can  it  be  that  Meg  of  the  Hills  has  sent 
Bertha  to  me  with  these  flowers,  but  for  which — 
the  life  that  is  in  them — -I  must  have  died.  Yes, 
that's  the  reason  why ;  at  least,  I  think  it  is. 

"But,  who  are  these?"  Beginning  at  last  to  have 
some  dim  perception  of  his  actual  surroundings. 
"These  are  they  who  have  kissed  me,  embraced  me, 
wept  over  me,  as  though  I  were  going  to  die.  Will 
they  do  so  still?  I  think  not;  for  they  mean  it  for 
Sprigg,  and  Sprigg  is  dead  already — passed  away  into 
nothing.  They  shall  never  see  their  old  Sprigg  again 
— never,  never,  never !  But  they  may  call  me  Sprigg 
if  they  like.  And  this  pretty  woman  here,  who  is 
laughing  and  crying  both  at  once,  I  will  call  her 
mother.  And  this  big  man,  who  looks  glad  enough 
to  laugh  and  sorry  enough  to  cry,  and  can't  do 
either>  I  will  call  him  father." 

Sprigg  never  called  them  "pap"  and  "mam"  again, 
the  longest  day  he  lived.  Neither  did  Jervis  and 
Elster  ever  again,  the  longest  day  they  lived,  say 
"my  dear  son,"  without  putting  in  the  fond  words 
as  much  silver  for  will,  as  gold  for  love. 

"Yes,  and  that  is  just  the  way  it  really  is,  after  all ! 
Father,  mother ;  yes,  and  grandpap,  too,  and-  grand- 
mam,  and  others  whose  names  I  ought  to  know,  but 
do  not.  All  are  here — none  missing.  No,  not  all, 
either ;  I  do  not  see  dear  old  Pow-wow.  And  I  must 
see  him.  He  will  make  me  laugh,  and  I  must  laugh, 
or  I  may  die  yet.  I  thought  I  heard  him  bark  but 
now." 


POW-WOW.  189 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Pow-wow. 

Pow-wow  had  not  barked  within  hearing  of  the 
fort  since  the  evening  he  had  found  his  little  master 
down  there  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice.  He  had  gone 
and  come,  hastening  back  when  he  went,  lingering 
when  he  came — a  silent,  sad  and  thoughtful  dog.  By 
some  inscrutable  operation  of  instinct  he  had  soon 
discovered  that  the  errands  which  led  Ben  and  Ber 
tha  daily  abroad  had  a  reference  in  some  Way  to  the 
wants  of  his  unfortunate  little  friend,  and  that,  there 
fore,  it  was  his  bounden  duty  to  lend  a  helping  hand. 
Accordingly  'he  had  divided  his  time  about  equally 
between  the  two  young  people ;  helping  the  one  about 
the  wild  herds  of  the  forest,  the  other  about  the  tame 
herds  of  the  field.  In  the  morning  he  would  follow 
the  young  hunter  to  the  distant  lick,  and,  having  ac 
quitted  himself  in  the  chase,  with  his  wonted  address, 
he  would  hasten  back  to  the  fort,  leaving  his  com 
panion  to  follow  at  that  plodding  pace  peculiar  to 
two-footed  animals,  and  so  irksome  to  dogs,  to  ac 
commodate  themselves  to  which  they  must  needs 
trot  out,  on  a  magnified  scale,  the  ground  plan  of  a 
straggling  worm  fence,  with  wide  digression  to  right 
and  left ;  now  to  sniff  at  a  stump,  then  to  bark  down 
13 


190  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

a  sinkhole.  In  the  afternoon  he  would  accompany 
Bertha  to  the  bluegrass  glades,  where  he  would  take 
her  charge  so  completely  upon  himself  as  to  leave  her 
nothing  to  do  but  clamber  up  the  hill  for  a  fresh  cull 
ing  of  flowers,  then  follow  him,  as  homeward  he 
drove  the  cows. 

When  not  occupied  thus,  he  would  station  himself 
on  the  porch  at  the  door  of  the  sick  room,  looking  up 
wistfully  into  every  faoe  that  passed  him,  in  the  poor, 
dumb,  asking  way,  which  so  endears  a  dog  to  us  when 
the  shadow  of  death  is  on  our  home.  He  had  never 
ventured  to  intrude  himself  into  the  house,  but  now 
that  he  was  called,  the  grateful  look  and  humble 
alertness  with  which  he  answered  the  summons  testi 
fied  how  earnestly  he  had  wished  to  do  all  along. 
Setting  his  feet  as  carefully  on  the  floor  as  were  he 
shod  with  heavy  shoes,  that,  too,  without  a  warning 
whisper  in  the  ear  from  Ben's  mother,  he  slowly 
walked  up  to  the  bedside  and  softly  ran  his  huge  head 
under  the  little  hand,  so  white  and  wan,  extended  to 
greet  and  caress  him.  Pow-wow  licked  the  hand  in 
the  dear  old  way,  and  the  familiar  sensation  helped, 
not  a  little,  to  reassure  the  boy  of  his  own  identity 
and  make  him  more  present  to  the  state  of  things 
around  him.  And  it  was  strange  how  much  more 
natural  his  voice  and  manner  became  the  moment  he 
began  speaking  to  his  old  play-fellow;  though  what 
he  spoke  was  hardly  less  fantastic  or  more  coherent 
than  the  greater  part  of  what  he  had  spoken  already. 


POW-WOW.  191 

"Pow-wow,  is  it  really  you,  old  pard,  and  no  mis 
take?  And  are  we  all  alive  and  here  at  grandpap's 
house,  and  no  dreaming  about  it?  (Pausing  to  pat 
the  old  dog's  head.)  Pow-wow,  did  Nick  of  the 
Woods  ever  give  you  a  pair  of  red  moccasins  ?  No, 
he  never  did,  because  he  knew  you  weren't  a  fool. 
(Here  closing  his  eyes  and  seeming  for  a  moment  to 
forget  the  dog.)  Pow-wow,  were  you  ever  chased 
by  the  Manitous?  No,  you  never  were,  for  you 
never  sneaked  away  from  home  with  a  lie  in  your 
mouth,  like  a  spit-thief  dog.  (Aga'in  closing  his 
eyes  for  a  few  moments,  to  open  them  again  and  add :) 
The  Manitous  chase  nobody  but  bad  people,  and 
chase  them  only  to  make  them  good.  (Pausing  to 
play  with  the  old  dog's  ear.)  And  so  they  have 
chased  your  old  Sprigg,  Pow-wow;  chased  him  out 
of  the  world!  You  shall  never  see  your  old  friend 
Sprigg  again!  Never!  Never!  Never!"  (Now 
giving  the  old  dog's  ragged  ear  a  certain  pluck  which 
had  always  <been  well  understood  between  them.) 

At  each  repetition  of  his  name  the  only  part  of  his 
little  master's  speech  which  had  any  sound  of  Eng 
lish  to  'his  ear,  Pow-wow  would  fall  to  wagging  his 
tail  in  a  hearty,  emphatic  manner,  as  were  he,  China 
man-like,  shaking  hands  with  himself  over  the  glad 
event  of  the  day.  But  on  receiving  the  pluck  of  the 
ear,  in  the  dear  old  way,  the  dear  old  fellow,  quick  to 
take  the  hint,  gave  vent  to  a  sort  of  double  yelp,  pecu 
liar  to  him  when  in  a  waggish  humor — a  smothered 


192  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

nasal  "boo-woo,"  so  irresistibly  ludicrous  that  it  had 
always  made  Sprigg  laugh,  as  now  it  did,  right  heart 
ily.  This  is  but  the  prelude  to  what  needs  must  fol 
low.  Up  he  rears  himself  on  his  hind  legs,  snaps  at 
the  imaginary  bone  thrown  up  by  an  imaginary  hand, 
catches  it  in  his  mouth,  drops  with  it  to  the  floor,  and, 
stretching  himself  out  at  full  length,  pretends  to  gnaw 
what  he  pretends  to  hold  between  his  paws.  But  this 
was  Pow-wow's  only  accomplishment — fancy  accom 
plishment,  I  mean — for  he  was  a  finished  hunter  and 
a  finishing  fighter,  and  we  have  seen  for  ourselves 
that  he  knew  exactly  what  do  do  with  cows  when  he 
went  with  a  nice  little  girl  to  the  pasture  to  help  her 
drive  them  home.  Therefore,  finding  himself  at  the 
end  of  his  programme  sooner  than  the  occasion 
seemed  to  demand,  he  raised  himself  to  his  haunches 
and  looked  around  him  with  a  deprecating  air,  as  if 
he  would  fain  apologize  for  his  deficiencies. 

Hardly,  however,  could  the  apology  have  been  ex 
pressed  in  words,  when  up  he  bounces  again  to  his 
hind  feet  and  begins  executing  a  series  of  antics,  so 
fantastic  and  undog-like  that  they  who  witnessed 
them  were  quite  as  much  astonished  as  amused. 
Jervis  Whitney  himself,  than  whom  there  was  not  a 
man  in  the  hunter's  paradise  more  deeply  versed  in 
dogs  and  their  ways,  and  who  thought  he  knew  his 
own  dog  from  head  to  tail  and  back  again,  was  even 
more  astonished  than  the  rest.  Had  old  Mother 
Hubbard  and  her  far-famed  dog  risen  from  their 


POW-WOW.  193 

honored  graves  and,  presenting  themselves  before 
our  friends,  repeated  the  dear  old  programme,  from 
the  cupboard  so  bare,  to  the  bier  so  sad,  with  the 
fruits  and  the  flue,  the  tripe  and  the  pipe,  the  wig  and 
the  jig,  and  all  the  other  fondly  remembered  marvels 
between — scarcely  could  the  effect  have  been  more 
startling. 

Now,  Pow-wow's  antics  on  this  occasion,  unac 
countable  as  they  seemed  to  those  who  witnessed 
them,  and  must  seem  to  the  more  sober  class  of  my 
readers,  admit  of  perfectly  rational  explanation,  give 
them  only  Manitou  ground  to  rest  on.  Nick  of  the 
Woods  and  Meg  of  the  Hills,  who  knew  as  well  as 
anybody — better,  I  fear,  than  many  a  human  body — 
that  there  are  few  things  more  wholesome  for  us 
poor  mortals  than  hearty,  unrestrained,  unrestrain- 
able,  innocent  laughter,  had  decided  between  them 
that,  in  order  to  put  his  case  beyond  all  human  or 
superhuman  possibility  of  relapse,  Sprigg  should 
have  some  hearty  laughter.  Accordingly,  they  had 
sent  one  of  their  dog-robed,  dog-natured  elves  to 
tinker  and  conjure  with  Pow-wow's  tail,  and  through 
that  sensitive  member,  as  a  medium,  telegraph,  as  it 
were,  such  fancies  to  his  sober  old  noddle  as  should, 
for  a  brief  space,  set  him  quite  beside  himself.  In 
other  words,  set  him  to  acting  the  human,  according 
to  the  monkey  conception  of  the  character.  A  con 
ception  so  nearly  suits  an  occasional  specimen  of  the 
model  race  as  scarcely  to  be  deemed  caricature. 


194  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

And  Sprigg  did  laugh — laughed  till  his  sore  sides 
ached — laughed  "fit  to  die,"  as  they  say,  when  they 
mean  the  very  opposite — "fit  to  live."  After  such  a 
laugh,  Sprigg  was  in  no  more  danger  of  dying  than 
had  all  the  doctors,  with  their  doses  ;  all  the  preachers, 
with  their  prayers,  stood  between  him  and  the  grave. 
Of  course,  everybody  else  was  laughing;  not  but  that 
they  felt  still  more  inclined  to  cry,  so  touching  was  it 
to  witness  the  old  dog's  clumsy  playfulness  and  the 
little  sufferer's  spasmodic  merriment — for  spasmodic 
it  needs  must  be,  as  yet,  though  so  hearty,  heart- 
easing  and  wholesome.  Indeed,  there  are  few  things 
more  pathetical  than  the  innocent  mirth  of  the  young 
heart,  over  whose  dawning  existence  has  already 
fallen,  though  but  for  a  brief  space,  the  shadow  of 
the  inevitable  hour.  And  F  will  venture  to  affirm, 
upon  the  strength  of  my  own  experience  and  obser 
vation,  that  if  you,  my  gentle  reader,  had  been  pres 
ent  and  witnessed,  without  both  tears  and  laughter, 
the  scene  I  am  describing,  you  would  be  as  fit  a  sub 
ject  for  a  "putting  through"  as  ever  was  poor  Sprigg ; 
and  that,  sooner  or  later  for  your  fuller  humanizing, 
you  must  run  the  Manitoti  gauntlet.  And  whether 
you  run  it  in  red  moccasins  or  in  split-leather  Yankee 
shoes,  all  one  will  it  be  to  Nick  of  the  Woods ! 


YOUNG  BEN   LOGAN.  195 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Young  Ben  Logan. 

Pow-wow  was  still  performing,  Sprigg  'still  laugh 
ing,  the  rest  of  the  company  still  in  a  maze  of  de 
lighted  bewilderment,  when,  home  from  the'  forest,  in 
came  rolling  young  Ben  Logan.  He  had  heard  the 
good  news  at  the  gate,  and  now,  as  if  feeling  there 
was  no  further  need  of  his  being  tender-footed,  he 
came  lumbering  through  the  house,  making  every 
loose  board  he  trod  on  a  speaking  witness  to  the  joy 
of  his  heart.  "Actions  speak  louder  than  words,"  so 
they  say;  and  yet  it  does  so  happen  sometimes,  but 
very  rarely,  mind  you,  that  what  they  say  is  'a  good 
deal  louder  than  what  they  do.  At  sight  of  the  young 
hunter,  Pow-wow  had  cut  short  his  antics,  or,  rather, 
was  made  to  cut  them  short — the  Manitou  inspira 
tion,  to  which  they  had  been  due,  departing  from  him 
as  suddenly  as  it  had  entered ;  and  subsiding  to  his 
haunches,  he  became  in  an  instant  as  quiet  and  sol 
emn  as  a  tumbler  between  cues.  In  the  joy  of  the 
moment,  Ben  had  forgotten  to  leave  his  rifle  at  the 
door,  and  now,  with  it  in  his  left  hand  rested  on  the 
floor,  he  stood  by  the  bedside  of  his  strangely  fated 
little  friend,  a  heroic  smell  of  gunpowder  and  buck 
skin  boisterous  in  the  air  about  him,  and  on  his  face 


196  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

a  look  of  benignant  wonderment,  as  he  gazed  down 
into  the  newly  reopened  eyes,  whose  light  had  so 
well  nigh  been  lost  in  the  shadows  of  death.  Bright 
and  clear  as  were  the  eyes  turned  up  to  his  own,  they 
were  still  hardly  capable  of  more  than  a  dreamy  per 
ception  of  what  they  looked  on.  Taking  the  little 
hand,  so  white  and  wan,  in  his  own  huge,  powder- 
begrimmed  paw,  and  shaking  it  gently  from  side  to 
side,  in  a  wag-tail  way,  Ben,  after  some  moments  of 
silence,  said: 

"Howd'ydo,  Sprigg?" 

"My  name  is  Sprigg,  then,  sure  enough?" 

"If  it  isn't  I  don't  know  the  man  I'm  talking  to ; 
never  did — stranger  to  me." 

"And  is  your  name  Ben  Logan?" 

"If  it  isn't  I  don't  know  the  man  that's  talking  to 
you ;  never  did — stranger  to  me." 

"And  these  two  pretty  people  here,  are  they  my 
father  and  mother,  really,  now?" 

"If  they  ain't  so  now,  they  never  were  so  and 
never  will  be  so,  in  this  world."  Delivered  with 
much  solemnity  and  some  stress  on  "now"  and 
"this." 

"And  this  place,  where  we  all  are,  is  it  really 
grandpap's  house,  and  no  mistake?" 

"If  it  isn't  you  can't  prove  it  by  me.  It's  just 
where  I  left  just  such  a  house  this  morning,  though 
it  doesn't  look  much  like  the  same  place,  either,  with 
you  wide  awake  in  it,  and  old  Pow-wow  on  his  hind 
legs  in  it,  and  both  so  jolly." 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  197 

"And  that  little  girl  there,  at  the  foot  of  my  bed, 
is  her  name  Bertha?" 

Here  Ben  paused  before  answering,  regarding  the 
person  referred  to  with  a  look  of  some  perplexity. 
"Well,  she  used  to  answer  to  that  name,  but  here 
lately  she  don't  answer  to  any  when  I  call  her;  goes 
about  like  one  in  a  traveling  dream.  There  she 
stands,  a-gazing  at  you  with  a  far-off  look  in  her 
eyes,  as  though  you  were  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Kentucky  river,  and  not  a  living  thing  anear  you. 
Bertha !"  Here  Ben  elevated  his  voice  a  little.  Ber 
tha  turned  her  eyes  toward  the  speaker,  though  ap 
parently  with  as  little  perception  of  his  actual  pres 
ence  as  though  he  were  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river  he  had  named.  "There,  you  see  how  she  does, 
and  that's  the  way  she's  doing  all  the  time.  When 
she  wakes  up  she  won't  know  any  more  for  a  minute 
where  she  is  than  you  did,  before  I  told  you.  She's 
either  in  love,  or  fixing  to  be  a  ghost." 

What  young  Ben  Logan  meant  by  this  concluding 
remark  were  hard  to  imagine ;  unless,  indeed,  he  had 
in  his  mind  the  idea  of  a  little  angel,  when  he  said 
"ghost."  After  receiving  each  answer,  Sprigg  would 
pause  for  a  few  moments  to  consider  what  he  had 
heard  and  assure  himself  of  its  meaning  before  pro 
ceeding  further.  Now,  after  a  somewhat  longer 
pause  than  before,  he  put  the  startling  question : 

"Ben,  did  you  ever  see  Nick  of  the  Woods?"  To 
which  he  received  the  equally  startling  answer: 


198  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

"Well,  if  I  didn't  see  him  to-day,  it  wasn't  because 
I  didn't  stare  with  all  the  eyes  I  had.  I  never  saw  the 
woods  behave  so  in  all  my  life  before.  There  a  tree, 
just  one  tree,  would  fall  to  waving  its  limbs  and  shak 
ing  its  leaves,  making  the  liveliest  flutter,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  trees  as  still  as  mice  when  the  cat's  about. 
And  there  went  smoke  a-rolling  up  in  puffs  as  big  as 
feather  beds,  and  not  a  sign  of  fire  to  show  for  it, 
that  I  could  see.  And  there  went  fire  a-shooting  up 
in  flames  higher  than  my  head,  and  not  the  sign  of  a 
stick  of  wood  to  show  for  it,  that  I  could  see.  And 
here  went  shadows,  skipping  and  dodging  about,  and 
not  the  sign  of  a  living  thing  to  do  the  skipping  and 
dodging,  that  I  could  see.  And  there  were  voices  all 
about  me — some  on  this  side,  others  on  that ;  some 
close  at  my  ear,  and  others  far  away — all  talking  the 
strangest  gibberish,  and  not  the  sign  of  a  living  thing 
to  do  the  talking,  that  I  could  see." 

"Weren't  you  terribly  frightened,  Ben?" 

"Well,  at  first  I  did  feel  queer — just  a  little  queer, 
up  and  down  the  back  and  about  the  roots  of  my 
hair — but  just  as  I  had  cocked  my  gun,  and  was  look 
ing  about  me  for  something  to  let  fly  at — plump !  It 
was  all  gone  as  quick  as  the  blowing  out  of  a  candle. 
Then  I  felt  a  little  better,  and  after  a  short  while  a 
great  deal  better — real  good  and  easy.  I  don't  know 
why,  but  it's  just  so." 

Each  time,  after  giving  his  answer,  and  while 
Sprigg  would  be  pausing  to  consider  it,  Ben  would  fill 


YOUNG  BEN  LOGAN.  199 

up  the  interval  with  another  wag-tail  shake  of  the 
hand  he  still  held  in  his  own,  thereby  lengthening  out 
his  answer  with  something  he  had  omitted  to  express 
in  words.  Now,  after  two  or  three  of  the  supplemen 
tary  shakes,  he  did  bethink  him  to  put  the  something 
else  in  words. 

"But,  Sprigg,  you  are  looking  a  great  deal  better 
than  I  expected  to  find  you.  Though  I  needn't  won 
der  so  much  at  >that,  either,  for  they  wanted  to 
feed  you  on  trash — squirrels  and  birds,  and  I 
wouldn't  let  'em.  Tell  us — me  and  Pow-wow — how 
you  liked  the  buffalo  we  brought  home  for  you  yes 
terday?" 

"Oh,  very  much,  I-am  sure." 

"And  the  fat,  young  bear  we  brought  you  the  day 
before  yesterday?" 

"Better  still,  I  am  certain." 

"And  the  fat,  young  buck  we  brought  you  the  day 
before  that?" 

"Best  of  all ;  and  if  I  didn't  tell  you  so  at  the  time 
it  was  because  I  was  asleep  and  thinking  about  some 
thing  else.  And  now  I  am  beginning  to  find  out 
what  my  heart  has  been  trying  to  tell  me  all  this 
while.  I  see  it  in  Bertha's  face.  I  see  it  in  Ben's 
face — in  the  face  of  every  one  here — how  good  and 
kind  you  have  been  to  me  since  I  have  been  lying 
here ;  and  I  so  undeserving.  I  should  be  thankful 
you  had  kept  me  alive,  were  it  but  to  tell  you  how  I 
love  you  all  as  I  have  never  loved  any  one  before." 


200  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

Now  were  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  which,  up  to  this 
moment,  had  been  so  bright  and  clear — tears  that 
went  on  telling  the  gratitude  and  love  which  the  lips 
had  left  but  half  expressed.  Ben  had  already  had 
some  two  or  three  little  spells  of  filling  up  and  chok 
ing  down;  of  feeling  soft  and  breathing  hard,  so 
touching  was  it,  so  touching  is  it  always  to  witness 
the  gratitude  of  the  poor  human  heart  to  poor  human 
love  for  poor  human  life ;  and  this  was  just  more 
than  the  good  fellow  could  bear  without  some  noise. 
Abruptly  checking  himself  in  the  midst  of  another 
wag-tail  shake,  he  laid  the  little  hand  on  the  bed  as 
carefully  as  you  would  a  glass  of  water  on  the  table, 
right  side  up,  and  hurried  out  of  the  house  like  one 
who  had  overstayed  his  time  and  must  rush  to  make 
ends  meet.  He  went  no  farther,  however,  than  just 
out  of  doors,  where,  finding  room  for  his  heart  to  ex 
pand  in,  roared  out  in  a  voice  perfectly  tremendous 
for  one  of  his  age  : 

"Hurrah  for  General  Washington !  Hurrah  for 
Colonel  Boone!  Hurrah  for  Sprigg!"  And  bang! 
went  his  gun. 


LITTLE  BERTHA.  201 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Little  Bertha, 

Up  to  this  moment  Bertha  had  remained  a  de 
lighted,  though  half-unconscious,  spectator  of  what 
was  passing.  While  Sprigg  was  unbosoming,  all  un 
wittingly,  his  Manitou  experiences,  her  innocent  eyes, 
without  losing  their  look  of  dreamy,  solemn  wonder, 
had  gradually  brightened  with  unwonted  intelligence, 
mixed  with  delight,  as  were  she  beholding,  in  their 
truer  and  more  benign  aspect,  the  marvels  which  had 
revealed  themselves  to  him  in  shapes  of  terror  and 
retribution.  Of  course,  what  Bertha  saw  and  heard 
she  only  comprehended  in  part  what  had  been  re 
vealed  ;  yet  was  she  and  ever  would  be  the  wiser  and 
the  happier  for  the  seeing  and  the  hearing. 

But  now,  with  the  young  stentor's  uncouth  roar 
of  joy,  shaking  the  infant  settlement  from  center  to 
circumference,  snapped  was  the  Manitou  spell, 
broken  the  Manitou  dream.  Gliding  out  of  the 
house ;  away,  like  a  bird,  to  the  woods  she  fluttered, 
there,  all  unobserved,  she  fell  to  dancing  about  for 
very  thankfulness  and  joy,  the  evening  sunbeams 
dancing  with  her,  as  were  she  a  sunbeam,  too,  in  hu 
man  likeness. 

"Oh!  could  I  but  tell  him,  who  loves  little  chil- 


202  THE  RED  MOCCASINS. 

dren,  how  thankful,  how  happy  I  am !     But  I'm  only 
a  little  girl,  and  don't  know  how!" 

Thus  spoke  innocent  Bertha,  dancing  all  the  while, 
and  dancing  all  the  blither  for  not  knowing  how  to 
tell  it — so  ready  is  heaven  to  compensate  our  lack- 
ings  when  love  is  in  our  hearts.  And  yet  she  had  told 
it  better  than  she  knew ;  for,  though  the  body  was 
dancing,  the  soul  was  kneeling ;  and  such  a  soul,  so 
lovely  and  so  bright,  that  the  good  Manitous — those 
who  were  crowned  with  the  crimson  flowers,  and 
those  who  wore  the  wings  and  plumes  of  beautiful 
birds — came  flitting  to  her,  drawn  by  sweet  attrac 
tion.  One  minute,  they  joined  hands  and  wheeled 
their  unseen  ring  around  the  human  innocent,  their 
presence  rilling  the  air  with  perfume  delectable  to 
breathe.  Then,  suddenly  parting,  each  at  a  tangent 
to  the  whirling  circle,  away  they  flew  to  bear  the  good 
news  far  and  wide.  And  the  good  news  went  to 
many  a  father  and  many  a  mother;  and,  though  it 
came  from  unseen  lips,  in  unheard  words,  it  left  a 
shining  in  the  eyes,  a  burning  in  the  heart,  which 
told  it  had  been  spoken ;  and  many  a  son  and  daugh 
ter  of  the  red  race,  looking  westward,  whispered : 

When  thus  smiles  the  setting  sun, 
Lo !  a  Manitou  race  is  run ; 
All's  well  ended,  all's  well  done — 
Wahkontonka  wills  it. 

Ever  thus  still  sets  the  sun, 
Ever  thus  the  race  is  run, 
Ever  thus  all  things  well  done — 
Wahkontonka  wills  it. 


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